


burned, about to burn, still on fire

by gunwoong (sessrumnir)



Category: The Boyz (Korea Band)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Elemental Magic, Kingdom politics, M/M, Rated M for Violence and Heavy Themes, Somewhat Star-Crossed Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:20:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23955223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sessrumnir/pseuds/gunwoong
Summary: Prince Kim would rather not be called that. So much so that he had a habit of sneaking into town whenever he could to meet up with friends and forget, at least for a couple of hours, who he was. One night, while walking home, he met a baker. The boy had the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.Their story would be told for years to come, but they didn't know that yet.
Relationships: Ju Haknyeon/Kim Sunwoo
Comments: 40
Kudos: 181





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> this is extremely self-indulgent... if you clicked on this, thank you!! 
> 
> a few notes:
> 
> \- inspired by the reveal mv. or to be perfectly honest, by their hairstyles in reveal. (some have red/reddish hair, some have blue/blueish hair.. you get the idea.)  
> \- side ships are either hinted at or present in the fic. all members are either mentioned or present in the fic, some more than others. hwall and eric are definitely more present than the others.  
> \- in regards to the english speaking line, I went with their korean names. so eric: youngjae, jacob: joonyoung, kevin: hyungseo.  
> \- I've used some quotes/poems throughout the story. credits will be in the end notes of the last chapter!  
> \- **CONTENT/TRIGGER WARNINGS:** death of parent(s), abusive family/parents, trauma & traumatic past, near-death experiences, some mild drinking.

Nothing comes easy, Sunwoo’s father used to say. Nothing will ever be given to you on a plate. That’s just not how things work.

For the most part, that seemed true. Sunwoo wasn’t an idiot, and he knew, in his 20 years of life, that there was more to every story. The people he met every day, the people he found himself surrounded with, everyone went through trouble. No road was free of hurdles. Not even his, as easy as his life seemed to be in the grand scheme of things. 

Sometimes, though, Sunwoo wondered how true that was.

The first time he met him, Sunwoo had been walking home from a party. Or at least a party to his standards—less fancy, less crowded, just the closest of friends drinking and singing and being silly together. It was innocuous as anything could ever be, which made it all the more frustrating knowing it would’ve made his family frown had they known where he had been. But that didn’t matter. Sunwoo was happy, light on his feet, enjoying the quiet night and the sky above him. It was a freedom he was more and more desperate for, one he seldom had as of late.

He took a shortcut through some low buildings he had never visited before. The town was still growing, had been since he was a child, and Sunwoo had no expectations of ever learning all of its nooks and crannies. It was for the better; he liked to learn the new streets, find the new paint in newly erected buildings, marvel at how neighborhoods could change in a matter of months. He liked to catch the little details, like the foreign words he saw now painted on the wall of this particular yellow-brick building. 

The door right next to the words opened all of a sudden. Sunwoo was startled, but it was just a man—a boy, really, who didn’t look older than Sunwoo himself, with round cheeks and arched brows. Their eyes met briefly, the boy carrying a trash can that he turned and spilled over the container positioned just beside the door. Sunwoo’s eyes went back to the words, trying to calm his heart down after the surprise. 

“It’s French,” the boy said. His voice was peculiar, definitely hoarser than his friendly smile would suggest. “It means ‘without you, today’s emotions would be nothing more than the dead skin of yesterday's emotions.’” 

Sunwoo looked at him. He was standing there, holding the door open in one hand and the empty can in another, watching Sunwoo. He had an easy smile, clear and honest. 

“That’s strong,” Sunwoo said. He nodded, a little thanks for the impromptu translation, and made to turn around and keep walking.

He didn’t take two steps before the guy called out, “Do you like pie?”

Sunwoo stopped, looking at him. He didn’t answer at first, so the guy tried again:

“Apple pie. It’s _really_ good. And I’m not saying it just because I made it.”

The night was still as quiet as it was a minute ago, but something felt different. Sunwoo felt it then, unsure what it meant, attributing it to curiosity, or to his recently-acquired and dangerous thirst for anything that would distract him from the life he led, from the stuffiness that never seemed to fade no matter how far away he ran. Something about the boy’s smile told him that it’d be ok to follow him inside. It didn’t hurt that Sunwoo had his sword with him, if push came to shove. 

“Sure. If it’s no imposition.”

The boy’s smile grew on his face. He stepped aside, letting Sunwoo walk inside before him. 

They were in a kitchen, a fairly-sized one. It looked pristine, and tidy, except for a couple of pots near the sink. Sunwoo could smell it now, the fresh scent of apple pie, recently out of the oven. There was a small table to the side, where the pie had been carefully placed. The boy hurried to clean the table of cutlery and empty paper bags, pulling a chair for Sunwoo. 

Now that they were inside, under the candle light, Sunwoo could see him better. His hair was black, bangs falling neatly over his forehead and those arched brows. He looked healthy, lively, and was wearing simple cream-colored robes. It contrasted with Sunwoo’s dark, close-fitting vest and trousers. The boy must have been thinking the same thing, because he remarked, “You look like a knight.” 

The corners of Sunwoo’s mouth went up. He took his place at the table, watching with curious eyes as the boy got them two plates and sat down across from him. “What makes you say that?”

“The sword, and the posture. You look regal.”

Sunwoo made a conscious effort not to react. He kept his expression amused, but didn’t let the anxiety show on his face. For all the years he had been sneaking into town, he had yet to be recognized. Walking those streets at night, alone, going to and from his friends’ hideouts had proven safe so far. Maybe this had been a mistake, walking into this stranger’s place, letting him see him up close like this. But leaving now would be just as suspicious, if not more. Sunwoo accepted the generous slice of pie the boy served him, nodding in thanks. 

“So? Are you?”

Sunwoo looked up to find those big, curious eyes watching him. The boy was chewing on a mouthful of pie, seemingly without a care in the world. 

“Am I what?”

“A knight.” 

Sunwoo chuckled. “No. I’m sorry.” 

“Oh. I didn’t know if I had it in me to make you smile,” the boy was smiling back at him, pleased with himself. He brought another spoonful to his mouth, “Happy to know I do!” 

“I still don’t know your name,” Sunwoo said, because it just occurred to him that he didn’t, and because that remark had caught him off-guard. 

He watched as the boy chewed the pie in his mouth, gulping it down before saying, “I still don’t know yours.”

Sunwoo opened his mouth to retort that he had asked first, but closed it back again when he thought that maybe not giving any names was a good idea. Instead, he said, “This is very good. The pie, I mean. You said you made it yourself?”

The boy nodded. Whenever Sunwoo looked at him, he seemed to have stuffed more pie into his mouth, so happy and carefree in his eating that Sunwoo found himself staring. 

“It’s my friend’s recipe. I was starving when I finished baking, and for some reason I‘ve been craving apple pie all week? I don’t know why, I just was. It’s good, isn’t it?”

“Truly,” Sunwoo agreed. He looked around the kitchen. “So you’re a baker?”

The boy nodded. He never seemed to stop smiling. It was a beautiful smile. He had beautiful lips. Sunwoo looked down at his own pie. “You’ve never been here?” The boy asked. “You’re missing out. And I’m not saying that because I’m the one who bakes the cakes and pies, but the bread is the best you’ll find in town. Honestly.”

“I need to see it for myself, then,” Sunwoo said. “Unfortunately, I’m not usually in town during the day.” 

”You’re not from around here?”

Sunwoo wanted to slap himself for that one. Why was he blabbering about himself? He used the excuse of finishing his pie to give himself some time to think. As much as it felt dishonest to lie to the boy in front of him, who seemed so earnest and trusting, Sunwoo didn’t have a choice. He reclined in his chair, “I work for a family estate. In the outskirts of town.” 

“Stable boy?”

Noticing the mischief behind the boy’s eyes, Sunwoo scoffed. “Guard. Please. Do I smell like horse shit or something?”

The boy snorted, covering his mouth with a hand to prevent pie from falling out. Sunwoo couldn’t help but laugh with him. His laughter was contagious, coming from his entire body, lighting up his eyes. 

“You don’t. But, to be fair, I have friends who worked as stable boys, and they smell just fine.”

“So you’re in the habit of smelling your friends. I gotta be honest, I’m somewhat regretting walking in here with you.” 

The joke had the desired effect. The boy threw his head back laughing, and Sunwoo felt unexpectedly giddy. Like making that baker laugh made him incredibly happy, for whatever reason. He helped himself to a second slice, unthinking, not worried about etiquette. He wasn’t worried about anything. That was such a different state of being that Sunwoo chased that, drunk on how light his shoulders felt. 

They talked for what felt like hours. Nothing substantial, because Sunwoo couldn’t risk revealing much about himself, as much as he prided himself in his acting skills. But it felt so good to talk to the black-haired boy, with his big eyes and even bigger smile. He talked so excitedly, laughed so openly at Sunwoo’s jokes, made his own ridiculous jokes that had Sunwoo cracking up. They ate most of the pie, and when Sunwoo said he should probably go, the boy prepared a small plate for Sunwoo to take the last couple of slices with him.

“I should at least pay for this,” Sunwoo said, standing up with the plate in his hands. 

“Nonsense,” said the boy, bringing their plates to the sink. He seemed to wash them in record time, turning back with the brightest smile on his face. “You kept me company, that’s more than enough.”

“Company doesn’t put food on the table,” Sunwoo pointed out, but was dismissed with a flick of the boy’s hand. 

“I made that for my own dinner, and it’s a good thing that you didn’t let me eat all of that by myself, otherwise mother—“ The boy cut himself off, averting his eyes from Sunwoo’s, then continued as if nothing had happened. “I’ve been hearing enough about my weight as it is.”

Sunwoo frowned. “What about it?”

The boy raised an eyebrow at him. “Come back some day and I’ll tell you.”

“How about next week?”

He blinked in surprise. “I didn’t think that would work, actually. Yes, that sounds good.” 

“Unless you’d rather not—“ Sunwoo tried to add, but the boy interrupted him.

“No. Please come. I’ll bake you something else.” He smiled, that beautiful, open smile. “Anything I should avoid? Any allergies?”

“Nothing too spicy, please. Other than that, I’m very easy to please.”

“Good to know.”

They stared at each other for a second. Sunwoo wondered if that was wise. If coming back the following week was a good idea. He could slip up, let something out, or the boy in front of him could talk to people, could ask around and figure out who exactly he had been talking to. But there was so much more asking him to come back. His heart, for starters.

“Same day. Next week. See you then?” Sunwoo said. 

“See you then.”

Sunwoo didn’t think he’d ever get used to the brightness of that smile.

* * *

As much as his duties kept him busy, Sunwoo had enough free time to let his mind wander. And wander it did. It usually brought him back to that kitchen in warm tones, the flickering candlelight dancing on the unnamed boy’s face. His features kept coming back to Sunwoo, the roundness of his cheeks, the jutting of his bottom lip, the odd eyelids. He kept thinking about his loud, boisterous laugh. He wondered if not knowing his name was too good of a mystery to keep his interest, then he wondered if his name even mattered. 

Sunwoo’s own name was a burden more often than not, so maybe he was happy not to worry about names just now.

“Watch out!” Hyunjoon called, bringing Sunwoo back to the present just in time for him to pull the reins in. His horse halted abruptly, rearing, and Sunwoo had to hold himself with all the strength he had in his legs not to fall backwards. “By the Goddess, where’s your head, Your Highness?”

Sunwoo frowned. He hated when Hyunjoon called him that, and Hyunjoon _knew_ , which was why he did it constantly. The sun was high and hot on their heads. Or rather, on Sunwoo’s head—Hyunjoon was sensibly wearing a hat. Sunwoo averted the thick bushes he almost made his horse run through, turning to face Hyunjoon, sitting atop another horse and looking as princely as humanly possible.

“Thank you for that,” he muttered.

“Where _is_ your head, though?” Hyunjoon was watching him with hawk-like eyes. Sunwoo knew that look all too well.

“Nowhere,” Sunwoo replied.

He turned his horse around once again, back on track. They were doing their usual midweek round-up, checking the property and the cattle. Of course, it was mostly a formality. Sunwoo never had to actually herd the cattle himself in his life. It was also an excuse to get away from the castle for hours and not get berated for it. He heard Hyunjoon’s horse speeding up before he caught sight of Hyunjoon by his side. 

“What is it? Did something happen?”

“You know, that’s creepy. This thing you do. It’s like you can read my mind.” Sunwoo paused, giving him a look. “You can’t, right?”

“Not like that,” Hyunjoon smirked. “But I’ve known you all my life, Sunwoo. You’re the easiest book to read.”

“You’re the only person who says that.”

“Well, I’m the only one paying attention.” Before Sunwoo could dwell too much on that, Hyunjoon pressed him again, “But seriously, what is it? You can’t be worried about the dinner already.”

Sunwoo scoffed. “Why would I be? It’s weeks away.”

“And you don’t want it to happen.”

Sunwoo didn’t have an answer to that, because it was true. He was dreading everything about that dinner. It was just a formality, but a formality for someone in Sunwoo’s position meant too much. By having that dinner, Sunwoo was sealing the deal. He was agreeing to marry Prince Ji, a man he had met only once, briefly, inconsequentially. 

It was all so entrenched in tradition that it was hard to argue with. There was some logic behind it: Prince Ji was the youngest of his family, and he had enough sisters to make his ascension to the throne unlikely. By marrying Sunwoo, he had the crown guaranteed, as Sunwoo was his mother’s first successor. And Sunwoo himself would be linking himself to the Ji bloodline, which boded well for his future reign. It was all perfectly aligned. It was the perfect match.

Except Sunwoo didn’t think so.

“I don’t even know him,” Sunwoo said, to Hyunjoon, but mostly to himself.

“You know his name,” Hyunjoon replied back. “That should be enough.”

But it wasn’t, was it? He didn’t know the bakery boy’s name, and that was ok. They had an entire conversation that didn’t revolve about bloodlines, thrones, obligations. Sunwoo had eaten the leftover pie the next day, remembering how happy the boy had been eating that same thing the night before. Sunwoo didn’t even know what Prince Ji liked. Ji Changmin. A name didn’t tell him anything.

He didn’t argue with Hyunjoon, though. There was no point in arguing. Besides, he didn’t want to think about Prince Ji. 

Friday couldn’t come fast enough.

* * *

The words were still there on the yellow-brick wall. 

_Sans toi, les émotions d’aujourd’hui ne seraient que la peau morte des émotions d’autrefois._

Sunwoo stared at them for a moment, trying to commit the foreign words to memory. He didn’t know a word of French, but that didn’t matter. He had been given the translation that first night, and that was enough. The door opened before he could knock, and the boy looked surprised to find him there.

“You could’ve knocked, you know.”

“I was about to,” Sunwoo said, pouting in mock offense. “Did you do this?” He pointed at the words.

“Oh, no. Penmanship is not my forte,” the boy said as he threw away the trash again, just like the first night. He smiled at Sunwoo, who tried his best not to let it show on his face how glad he was to see that smile again. “Come in, I made you a cake.”

Sunwoo followed him inside, unable to contain a grin. “I thought you were baking for yourself?” 

“I am, but you’re my guest of honor. Please,” he pulled a chair again for Sunwoo and busied himself washing his hands and bringing them clean plates. The cake looked beautiful, with white frosting and little pieces of fruit decorating the top. “I hope you like strawberry.”

“Who doesn’t?” Sunwoo said as soon as he took the first bite. “Gods, this is heaven.”

“You’d be surprised how picky people can be,” the boy said. He closed his eyes when he took his first bite, groaning. “And yeah, this is heaven. I’ve died and gone to heaven. Goodbye world.”

Sunwoo laughed. Already he felt lighter, like he had left his obligations outside, bringing only himself into the cozy, bright kitchen. The boy looked just as lively and excited as the week before, although he had bags under his eyes. Sunwoo didn’t know if he should ask about it. What was the etiquette for personal questions when you were talking to someone you didn’t even know the name of?

“So. How was your week?” The boy asked, stuffing his face with cake. It was endearing how excited he seemed to be about eating, how into it he looked. That was definitely not something Sunwoo would comment on, for fear he’d scare him into policing himself around Sunwoo.

“Ah. Well. Boring,” Sunwoo said, which was true. “I was counting the days to come back here, actually.”

The words sounded perfectly reasonable in his head, but when he said them out loud, he saw the boy’s eyes search his face, curious. Sunwoo started to regret saying it, wondering how weird it must’ve sounded to the baker, but—

“I was counting the days too,” the boy said with a big, beautiful smile. “I was scared you weren’t gonna come back.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Why would you? You could very well never come back again.”

 _I couldn’t_ , Sunwoo thought. It surprised him, to have that thought pop up into his head so clearly. He knew he was looking for excuses to forget about his life, and his position, but he didn’t know it went so far as to growing this attached to someone he virtually did not know.

“Hey, I’m not one to say no to free food,” Sunwoo joked, making the boy laugh. “But also, seriously, I can pay for this.”

“Oh my Gods, will you give it a rest? I like baking. I’m happy to do it. I’m happy to have someone to share this with, too.”

“Don’t you sell it? You’re sharing it with people already.”

“It’s not the same thing,” the boy said. He was grabbing another slice, giving it to Sunwoo before cutting another one for himself. The gesture was so natural to him he didn’t notice Sunwoo staring at him for a second too long. “You’re my guest. I like this.”

“I like this too,” Sunwoo said. His tone betrayed him, way too fond for a throwaway comment as he intended it to be. The boy gave him one of his curious, searching looks. Clearing his throat, Sunwoo asked, “And your week? How was it?”

“Weird. A friend of mine nearly died petting a sheep. Can you believe it?” 

Sunwoo was laughing even before he told the story. “No, actually, I can’t.”

“I swear it’s true!” The boy said, laughing with him. He proceeded to tell the whole story, which involved a sheep, a German Shepherd, and barbed-wire fence. Sunwoo was skeptical at first, but the boy sounded so genuine, and the story was so ridiculous, that it could only be true.

They talked for hours again. This time Sunwoo had come straight from the castle, and not after partying, so he was well rested and ready to stay the whole night talking, if it came to that. All he needed to do was leave an hour before sunrise, which was how long it took for him to leave town and reach the stables where he left his horse whenever he came into town. And to his surprise, they did talk all night, non-stop. He didn’t think they’d have so much to talk about considering Sunwoo couldn’t be honest with him, but the boy didn’t seem to mind. He didn’t tell Sunwoo anything about himself either, which Sunwoo assumed was his way of saying that he was ok with this game of anonymity.

“Here,” the boy handed him the plate with the leftover cake when Sunwoo stood up to leave. “Try not to eat it all at once.”

“Why? Too much sugar?”

“So you can remember me for longer,” the boy said, laughing when Sunwoo blanked. “You’re so easy to mess with.”

“I’m not,” Sunwoo said, which sounded like stubbornness, but was the truth. _I don’t know how you do it_ , was what he meant. He usually would have something to quip back with, but he could only stare at the cake in his hands, dumbfounded. “Can I see you next week?”

“Please. I’ll be waiting.” 

Sunwoo looked up and found those big, dark eyes staring back at him. He wanted to say something else, but he didn’t know what that something was. There were words not said dancing on his lips that he didn’t know the sound of yet. He gave the boy a warm smile, nodding. 

“See you then.”

* * *

They met every week. It became the best part of Sunwoo’s week, by a long shot. The boy always had something ready for them to eat while they talked, and talked, and talked. He never got anything wrong, and Sunwoo started to enjoy his baking so much, he asked him if he could cook other things, too. The boy said he could, and started preparing dishes—nothing too fancy, Sunwoo wouldn’t let him do that if he still wasn’t paying, but still delicious enough to make Sunwoo skip dinner every Friday in anticipation for what was waiting for him.

But the food was only a part of it. Truth was, he enjoyed the boy’s company, the way he talked, the stories he told. He never seemed to run out of those. When it wasn’t his story, it was his friend’s, or a friend’s relative’s, and so on. Sunwoo looked forward to his Fridays with an intensity that wasn’t usual. His mood changed, too, on the Saturdays after. Hyunjoon pointed that out one day, kneeling in front of the fireplace in Sunwoo’s room. His hand danced beautifully as the flames sipped from his fingers and onto the wood. 

“Whoever he is, he makes you happy,” he noted.

Sunwoo had been staring at the sky through the window, an open book forgotten on his lap. He snapped back to look at Hyunjoon. “What?”

“You’re happy. That’s him, right? The guy you told me about.”

There was just no way to hide it from Hyunjoon for much longer. Not only was Hyunjoon always with him, his closest friend and also his valet, he was also the one who made Sunwoo’s escapades into town possible. The fourth time Sunwoo had left to meet the bakery boy, Hyunjoon had asked him about it, arguing that it’d better for him to know if he ever had to lie about his whereabouts—or worse, come find him if he never came back. Sunwoo had told him about the kitchen, the food, the boy. He explained that they never exchanged names. Hyunjoon was suspicious at first, but when it became clear that Sunwoo wasn’t letting it go, Hyunjoon didn’t try to stop him. 

“Do I look happy?” Sunwoo asked, trying to deflect. The question had a bit of truth behind it, though. He genuinely wondered if he was just imagining it, or if those Friday nights were really having an impact on him. 

“Very, My Liege,” Hyunjoon said, making Sunwoo roll his eyes. “I have to ask…”

“What?”

Hyunjoon killed the flame in his hand, satisfied with the fire blazing in the fireplace. He stood up, his elegant robes swishing behind him as he sat on the other end of the couch where Sunwoo had been lounging. 

“Are you in love with him?”

Sunwoo snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Ask yourself. Are you in love with him?”

“I can’t be,” Sunwoo said. He didn’t need to think about it. He couldn’t be, because he was to marry someone else in one year's time; he couldn’t be, because “I don’t even know his name.”

“You don’t know anything about him, yes. But are you sure that’s stopping you?” Hyunjoon asked, and he sounded uncharacteristically gentle. Like he feared hurting Sunwoo with his words. 

“I said I don’t know his name. But I do know him,” Sunwoo surprised himself with how certain he was about that. “I know he likes to bake. I know dark chocolate is his favorite, and that his favorite food is tteokbokki. I know he likes animals, and that he had dogs growing up, and that he’s allergic to cats. I know he likes to make jokes, and that he likes riding, and that he has two childhood friends who are like family to him. I know he fell from a tree when he was six and never tried climbing again and it wasn’t until recently that he conquered his fear of heights. I know—”

He stopped himself from going further. Hyunjoon was watching him, not saying anything, letting him come to the conclusion himself. It didn’t take long.

“I can’t be in love with him. Hyunjoon, I can’t.”

“And if you are?”

Sunwoo didn’t know the answer to that.

* * *

Two months. By the eighth time they met, the boy had prepared a basket and was waiting for him outside the door, next to the words painted on the wall. Sunwoo greeted him with a smile and a questioning look.

“I thought we could change things up a bit today,” the boy said. He indicated the street with his head. “Shall we?”

Sunwoo helped him by carrying the bottle of wine, while the boy carried the basket and led the way. They didn’t talk much on the way—the streets were too quiet, and their voices would carry, so they exchanged a few giggles and whispers, like two teenagers sneaking around. The boy led them to a decrepit building that Sunwoo eyed with mistrust, but the boy took his hand, going in first and pulling him with him. It was an empty building, abandoned by the looks of it, and they snuck inside by removing some makeshift paneling from a side wall. 

“How do you know this place?” Sunwoo asked. His voice echoed in the empty space, bouncing back from the stone walls. 

“The person who painted that French saying. You know? The one behind the bakery? He knows this town better than anyone,” the boy said, leading him upstairs. The stairs were made of stone, so Sunwoo wasn’t particularly scared about the structure, but more about finding people in there. Or ghosts, but he didn’t voice that out loud. “He told me about… This.”

They reached the third floor, and Sunwoo lost his breath. They were staring at a partially collapsed wall, open enough for the horizon to be visible from there. The town was asleep, very few lamps on, and the stars shone bright above it. He could see the fields just outside the city limits, the river running its course eastward. Sunwoo stared, mouth falling open. The boy squeezed his hand gently. They were still holding hands.

“It’s beautiful,” Sunwoo said, finally looking away from the view to find the boy smiling at him. 

(What he didn’t say was that no matter how many stars were in the night sky, or how many rivers were crossing the horizon under the moonlight, no view would ever compare to that smile.)

“Isn’t it?” The boy agreed. He let go of Sunwoo’s hand to put the basket down. He pulled a blanket from it, spread it on the floor, and started pulling cheese and bread out, placing it neatly on the blanket. He paused, staring at the plates at the bottom of the basket. “Uh. I forgot the glasses.”

“For the wine? It’s ok,” Sunwoo sat down, uncorking the wine and smiling. “Do you mind sharing? I promise I’m not deadly ill.”

The boy laughed. “Well, thank Gods. I’m not deadly ill either, so I guess we’re good.”

He reached for the wine and took a sip straight from the bottle. Sunwoo watched, rather unabashedly, as he drank the wine, neck exposed. He felt thirsty all of a sudden, so he accepted the bottle as soon as the boy handed it to him and took a sip, too. It was good wine, and Sunwoo was grateful for it. 

“What spurred this on?”

“I don’t know,” the boy shrugged, popping a piece of cheese into his mouth. “We’re always cooped up in the kitchen, which I don’t mind, because I like that kitchen. I like all kitchens, for that matter, but I thought you deserved something else. Some fresh air. A nice view.” He smirked at Sunwoo. “Something other than my face to stare at.”

“To be fair, you have a very nice face.” The boy laughed, and Sunwoo found himself laughing, too. “I’m serious, why are you laughing?” 

“That’s just so romantic. ‘You have a very nice face’. Careful before I end up falling for you.”

Sunwoo’s smile faltered, but he hoped he was quick enough to pretend those words hadn’t affected him, playing nonchalance.

“You think I’ll stop?” Sunwoo joked, tasting the cheese and taking a piece of bread. “I’ll woo you into marrying me and ask you to cook for me once a week for the rest of my life. That’s my plan, anyway.”

“I already am cooking for you once a week, though,” the boy pointed out. He sounded amused. “You hardly need to marry me for that.”

“Maybe I just want to marry you, then,” Sunwoo said. He didn’t know why. The words simply came out of his mouth, spilling out like he had no control over them. He had a second to panic, thinking that he had certainly ruined the night, the moment, everything they had built up until that point. He couldn’t pass that off as a joke. But when he met the boy’s eyes, he didn’t see shock, or disgust, or rejection. He saw joy at first, quickly replaced by something he couldn’t pinpoint immediately.

“You wouldn’t want to marry me,” the boy murmured, looking away, at the night sky.

“You don’t know that.”

The boy chuckled, but it sounded sad, constricted. “I do, actually. I’m not exactly husband material.” 

Something boiled inside of Sunwoo. He felt a sudden urge to fix it, whatever it was that was bothering the boy—whatever made him think that Sunwoo wouldn’t want to marry him. It wasn’t even a matter of proving his point, it was a tugging at his heartstrings, the uncomfortable idea that the boy didn’t think he was enough, or worthy, or whatever it was he was thinking. And he didn’t know who Sunwoo was, so it wasn’t anything about Sunwoo’s position. It was something about the boy himself. Sunwoo found it unacceptable. 

He used a finger to touch the boy’s chin, turning his face back to him gently. Their eyes met. Sunwoo said, in the kindest voice he could, “When I’m with you, I feel life is strong. Like it will defeat all its enemies and all of mine, and all of yours. And all of yours in you, and all of mine in me. For those are the most dangerous.”

He couldn’t tell who kissed who first. Their lips met, and Sunwoo’s thoughts were replaced by thoughts of _him_. His lips were soft. His hands were warm, more delicate than they looked. His skin carried thunder, loud wherever it touched Sunwoo. They kissed for a long time that still felt too brief, too fleeting. Sunwoo missed him as soon as they parted, so he chased his lips, and was kissed again, and again, and again. 

Their foreheads touched when they parted again, and Sunwoo didn’t want to close his eyes for fear he’d miss every little detail in the boy’s face. He had his eyes closed, lips hanging open, pink and beautiful.

“I don’t know what we’re doing,” he said, and the words made Sunwoo’s stomach drop until he saw the smile forming on his lips. “But I’m happy. I’m happy about this.”

“Good. Because I don’t think I’d take it well if you told me to walk away right now.”

The boy laughed, so close Sunwoo could feel his breath on his lips. 

“Don’t worry, I don’t want you to go anywhere.”

The night was so quiet it felt like the entire world had stopped for them. Sunwoo had never felt that way before. It might have scared him, had he not been someone who had been looking for the new and unexpected his whole life. This was new. This feeling, this sentiment. He didn’t dare name it yet, but it was there.

They finished the wine and the cheese between one kiss and another, and watched the stars above. Sunwoo talked about the constellations, explained one by one, told him what their names were, and the names of each star he could remember. His memories of how he learned that didn’t matter now. The boy was listening so intently, leaning against his side, letting their arms touch, that Sunwoo didn’t need to worry about anything else besides the present. The past didn’t matter anymore, and the future could wait.

* * *

Their meetings continued as usual, except for the kissing. They still ate and talked for the most part of the night, but sometimes Sunwoo would pull his chair closer to the boy’s; sometimes the boy would play with Sunwoo’s fingers as he told him the latest story about a friend of a friend. When he kissed him goodnight, he usually tasted just like what they were having before. It felt, at times, like Sunwoo was living a fairytale. Like the town at night was his own fantasy land, where he had a chance to breathe and be with the man who reminded him what smiling was supposed to feel like.

The first time they needed to cancel their plans was the week of the dinner with Prince Ji and his entourage. Sunwoo let him know the week before that he wouldn’t be able to come, and even though he didn’t want to lie to the boy, he couldn’t be forthright either. He said it was a family matter. The boy understood, and made him promise he’d be back in two weeks time. For some reason, they didn’t want to break their Friday tradition. Maybe, Sunwoo gathered, the boy was a little superstitious like Sunwoo himself.

He left him with a smile that turned sour as soon as he rode back to the castle. 

The following week felt like his personal hell. Sunwoo was anxious, irritated. He didn’t want that marriage to happen, and he rehearsed several times what he would say to Prince Ji and his family, how much he would apologize. To them and to his own family, who were counting on him to marry well. A monarch needs a faithful partner by their side, his mother would always say. She always spoke in hypotheticals, as if Sunwoo’s father had never been her very own partner, a king that left her queen to reign on her own. Sometimes he wondered if she, too, liked to pretend he never existed.

Sunwoo tried drinking his sorrows away, but he wasn’t good with alcohol, and that only gave him a searing headache. He tried hanging out with his friends, dukes and counts and generally rich people with whom he didn’t have to hide who he was or why he wanted so bad to forget exactly that, but his mind kept going back to that third floor building, to those soft lips, that boisterous laugh. He kept thinking about Prince Ji arriving that week, expecting an engagement announcement by the end of the dinner on Friday. He got particularly drunk one night and slurred his way through a convoluted metaphor for his situation, which his dear friend Joonyoung tried his best to follow.

“And you’re the sparrow in this scenario?” Joonyoung asked, confused but kind enough to pretend he understood.

Sunwoo nodded.

“Maybe that sparrow needs to find his own path? One that doesn’t involve getting eaten by a goose?”

“But how?” Sunwoo half slurred, half growled.

“I don’t know. He has wings. He can fly wherever he can, can’t he? He can fly away from the goose,” Joonyoung offered, and if Sunwoo had been less drunk, he would’ve noticed Joonyoung was slurring his words too, a glass or two over his limit. 

His father’s words kept coming back to him the next day. Nothing comes easy. Nothing is delivered to you on a plate. Sunwoo used to ponder the irony of a king saying that, but now he thought he understood. Nothing that mattered came easy. Nothing worth fighting for was ever easy. And he _did_ have wings, in a sense. 

Which is how he ended up in the stables at the edge of town, the hood of his riding cape drawn over his face. He was antsy, pacing back and forth. It was Thursday. Prince Ji’s entourage had arrived a day before, and were at the castle, although they had agreed to only meet formally at the dinner on Friday. Sunwoo was supposed to be at the castle, monitoring the preparations, receiving the guests who were staying at the castle or at the neighboring estates, but instead he had dragged Hyunjoon to town with him. And now he was waiting, heart thumping loudly on his ears, turning his back to any and every passerby. It was the middle of the day, and the chances of him being recognized were much higher.

Finally, he heard hurried footsteps approaching. He turned to find Hyunjoon walking towards him, eyeing the people around them, just as worried as he had been when Sunwoo had told him about his plans. But he made good on his promise, and brought back… not the boy Sunwoo knew.

The man in front of him was tall and lean, wearing simple yet beautiful robes of a discreet blue. He met Sunwoo’s eyes and gasped, dropping to one knee immediately. “Your Highness!”

Hyunjoon pulled him up just as fast as he had kneeled down, “Your subservience is appreciated but we’re keeping a low profile here.”

“This isn’t him,” Sunwoo said. He sounded harsh to his own ears, but he didn’t mean it. “Hyunjoon, you got the wrong person, this isn’t—“

“He’s the baker,” Hyunjoon explained.

“I am,” the man said, looking from one to the other. He seemed to have understood what was happening right away. “Officially. But I only make the bread. My name’s Choi Chanhee. Someone else makes our cakes. You’re looking for him. Right?”

Sunwoo nodded. “Yes. Yes, exactly. Where is he?”

Chanhee looked from Sunwoo to Hyunjoon, then back to Sunwoo. He seemed to be dreading his next words. “I’m afraid he’s in his kingdom, Your Majesty. You’re looking for Prince Ju Haknyeon.”


	2. II

Once upon a time, the Gods made a deal with the four ruling families of the land, sending four of their own to live amongst humanity to spread their gifts with mankind.

Haknyeon grew up knowing that story. It was hard not to—not only was his mother a scholar of the Old Myths, it was always right there, on the walls of the music room. The tapestry ran from floor to ceiling, three whole walls of the tales of The Divine Four. He liked to stare at it as a child, even before he could read. The golden lines drew figures, and words, and symbols that Haknyeon knew by heart at this point. The Earth Divine, with its monolith; The Air Divine, with its tornado; The Fire Divine, with its dancing flames; and The Water Divine, with its geyser. 

(If you looked closely enough, you could see the patch that had to be reconstructed after his attempt to risk it off the tapestry. Haknyeon always looked at it from a distance, so as to not remind himself.)

He looked away from the intricate drawings, watching with mirth as his younger sister giggled between notes. She had been playing the piano and singing, and Haknyeon had been holding the glass of water sitting atop the piano. Whenever she hit a particularly high note, the water in the glass vibrated, sometimes going as far as jumping up and out of the glass, only to be restored back without a hitch. Haknyeon liked to make Hakyoon laugh. She was a very talented musician as well, so it wasn’t like he was disrupting her practice either. He made the water jump up one more time, laughing when Hakyoon snorted in the middle of a high note. Then the door opened suddenly.

Haknyeon let the glass go immediately, pulling his hand back as if he had been burned. The music stopped, and both of them stared at their mother, now standing there, wearing a beautiful green gown, her hair pulled back. 

“I wasn’t aware you were here, Haknyeon,” she said that in the same tone she always used when she walked into Haknyeon unexpectedly: suspicious, cautious. Surprised. He was used to it, for the most part. “Hakyoon. Come with me, the tailor is going to take your measurements again.” 

“But I’m practicing,” Hakyoon said with a pout. Their mother nodded.

“I am aware. It won’t take long.” 

Hakyoon shot Haknyeon a look, one that spelled _I don’t wanna_ , but he said, “Hey, stop growing so tall and you won’t have to take your measurements every two weeks.” 

She showed him her tongue, and he responded in kind, making her laugh. She walked out of the door first, and their mother started to leave when she noticed the glass of water on the piano. Her gaze shifted to Haknyeon, apprehensive. She hesitated before finally leaving the room as well. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to. 

Just as the door was about to close, Haknyeon heard Youngjae’s voice approaching. He slipped in the room, quick as a mouse, and closed the door behind him.

“You look like you just ran here from Jeju,” Haknyeon said, noting the pinkness of his cheeks.

Youngjae nodded. “Pretty much. Well, not Jeju, but I ran. Fast. Someone sent you this.”

Haknyeon reached for the rolled up piece of paper, but Youngjae pulled it back, watching his face.

“Is it him? The guy you took to the old bookshop? Which, by the way, you still haven’t told me what happened there!”

“How can I know who it is from, I haven’t even read it yet!”

“Oh, right,” Youngjae handed him the paper, kneeling on the floor in front of him and looking up expectantly. “So? Is it him?”

Haknyeon’s heart was beating fast. He wasn’t one to get notes, and this one couldn’t have come from the knight—as he liked to call him in his head, even though the guy claimed he wasn’t one—since he didn’t know Haknyeon’s name. But it could be from someone at the bakery, and it wouldn’t mean good news. 

He was right. 

_Someone came looking for you. I told him your name. I’m sorry. Please be careful. —Chanhee_

Haknyeon read it once, twice, three times. By the time he looked up, Youngjae was practically bouncing on his knees.

“So?”

“It’s from Chanhee,” Haknyeon said, slowly, trying to process it by saying it out loud, since just reading it wasn’t helping. “He said… I think he came looking for me.”

“Your guy?”

Haknyeon nodded, even though that was an incorrect way to put it. The guy wasn’t his, not even close. “But why do I need to be careful?” He asked out loud, prompting Youngjae to just snatch the note from his hand and read it himself.

“Oh shit,” Youngjae said, then looked up, apologetically. “I mean. Oh, Sir, that’s bad. What do you think he means by telling you to be careful? Is your guy a criminal, maybe? A conman?” Youngjae gasped. “Did he threaten Chanhee for your name?”

“I don’t think so,” Haknyeon said, staring at the note in Youngjae’s hand. “He would’ve said something. Right? He would’ve come here at once. Chanhee is smart.” 

“That he is,” Youngjae agreed. He seemed lost in thought just like Haknyeon.

The thing was, Haknyeon was worried. He hadn’t expected the knight to learn his name so soon. He had no idea what he knew about him, or his family. The sordid details might not be public knowledge, but people talked. There were rumours. Haknyeon should at least consider the possibility that his knight knew everything—all there was to know, and all Haknyeon wished no one would. At the very least, he knew his position now. How that would affect the way the knight saw him was yet to be seen.

Youngjae suggested they get ready for the weekly visit to the neighboring farms, and Haknyeon went with him, still distracted, overthinking what Chanhee’s note might mean. He suspected he’d have a hard time getting through the week, if he had to wait until the other Friday to discover how he stood with the knight.

He didn’t sleep well that night. 

His days felt longer than usual. There was much to do around the land, as his older sister was constantly away on reigning princess business. As always, Haknyeon took care of the farmers’ complaints, dealt with the delivery of food and goods to the three neighboring towns they had a responsibility over, and helped the caretakers of their estate look after their animals. All of these tasks brought a smile to his face, because he liked dealing with people (and animals), and because it kept his mind busy, even if his anxiety kept hitting crescendos at random intervals. The silence, both from Chanhee and from his knight, was concerning. He half expected the knight to show up one day at his doorstep, which would be disastrous on so many levels. 

His Friday night was lonelier than he was expecting it to be. Even though he had been baking and closing the bakery alone for over 2 years now, to do so again after having been kept company felt oddly out of place. He missed the guarded gaze of his knight, his triangular smile, his carefully built nonchalance. He intrigued Haknyeon. There was an air of severity about him that was gone the second he smiled. He sometimes arrived at the bakery with shoulders so tense Haknyeon wanted to ask what had happened that day, that week even, to worry him so. He never did, for fear the man would ask him about his own week in return. How could Haknyeon possibly begin to explain who he was? He was in a town out of his mother’s reach, far enough away from home that Haknyeon could taste freedom, but not too far that he would taste fear. And yet… 

“Your head is some place else, My Prince,” Sangyeon’s voice brought him to the present. No, not Sangyeon. He was _Sir_ Sangyeon now. Haknyeon turned back to his plate with a smile.

“I apologize. I was just thinking about how insufferable you’re gonna be from now on,” he joked.

The dining hall was teeming with people. It was Sunday night, and Sangyeon had just been appointed the Queen’s Royal Knight. Sangyeon, who Haknyeon had known all his life. It wasn’t unexpected; he had been aiming for that position since they were kids, but still. Haknyeon would need some getting used to, calling him anything other than his name.

“Sir Sangyeon,” Haknyeon tried. The words felt right, albeit heavy on his tongue. 

“Sounds good, huh?” Sangyeon asked, smiling around a mouthful of duck meat. He gulped it down with wine before adding, “I know you barely paid attention to the ceremony but I meant it, you know. I truly intend to protect your family with my life.”

“I did pay attention,” Haknyeon retorted, so indignant that Sangyeon laughed. “And I know that. I trust you. We all do.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the Queen, addressing them and asking Sangyeon to tell the table one of his infamous hunting stories. The atmosphere was light, the people were happy. Haknyeon could recognize a lot of the faces sitting before the royal table. A farmer with round cheeks and thin eyebrows caught his eyes and waved at him. Haknyeon waved back with a smile.

When Sangyeon turned back to him, Haknyeon was almost done with his food. 

“As I was saying,” Sangyeon said, lowering his voice to something barely above a whisper. “I intend to protect you and your family. That means I need you to tell me the next time you’re meeting this mysterious man you’ve been seeing.”

Haknyeon turned to him so fast he almost got whiplash. He stared at Sangyeon’s knowing eyes for a second. “What did Youngjae say?”

“Nothing. Well, not willingly. He was reading a note in the kitchen right before the ceremony. I know Chanhee’s not in the habit of sending Youngjae notes, so that must’ve been addressed to you,” Sangyeon took a sip of his wine. “I pressed him and he said I should ask you.” 

Haknyeon didn’t know where to start. He blurted out, because he was still surprised, “You’re a cunning bastard.” 

Sangyeon laughed. “You know me too well.”

When Haknyeon didn’t follow him, though, Sangyeon’s smile dropped. 

“I mean it, Hak. Why would Chanhee tell you to be careful? Something’s not right. Please let me go with you if you intend to meet him again.” 

Haknyeon hesitated. It made sense to have someone with him next Friday, didn’t it? Even if he hoped with his heart and soul that his knight wouldn’t change a thing despite knowing his identity, he couldn’t be sure. There was no way of knowing, really. He wanted to trust him, he _trusted_ him, but that was mad of him, and the rational part of him knew that. He missed his knight so much. He was so scared. That turmoil must’ve translated in his face, because Sangyeon found his hand under the table and gave it a squeeze.

“It will be fine. You will be fine.”

Haknyeon hoped he was right. 

* * *

When Friday finally came, Haknyeon went to the bakery accompanied by Sangyeon. He had told him enough about their encounters to ease Sangyeon’s apprehension; Haknyeon might not know the knight’s name, but he knew _him_. He trusted him. Sangyeon tsked at that, calling him naive. Haknyeon didn’t argue with that. 

He had a couple of hours of baking before the knight could show up. Sangyeon stayed at the front, where the goods were displayed for the customers, while Haknyeon went to the kitchen to bake. They were separated by a door, and Haknyeon promised to shout should he need any help. The last thing he needed was Sangyeon eavesdropping on them, or scaring the knight away. 

Haknyeon focused on baking, then. He made cakes and pies and a tray of cookies. When they were done, he carried them to the front, slapping Sangyeon’s hand away when he tried to take a cookie. Haknyeon went back to the kitchen and started to work on an apple pie. It felt like a good choice, considering it had been their first shared meal. He tried not to worry himself, instead letting the process distract him from his anxiety. It worked. By the time the pie was done, Haknyeon took a deep breath, wiping the flour from his hands. 

There was a knock on the back door.

Haknyeon hurried to open it, unable to stop the smile forming on his face. Despite his uneasiness, despite all his worries, he missed the knight. He missed his eyes, and the way they’d watch him so intently, hung up on his every word. He missed his lips, most of all, against his own.

He opened the door, and was met with someone else standing there in the chilly night air.

“Don’t be scared,” the man said. He had a soft voice that slipped through thin lips. His cat-like eyes scanned the kitchen behind him before landing on Haknyeon’s face again. “You must be Prince Ju. It’s a pleasure, Your Highness,” the man said, bowing respectfully. 

Haknyeon was confused, looking left and right outside. There was no one there aside from the tall man. 

“Who are you?” Haknyeon asked. 

“My name’s Heo Hyunjoon. I have a message for you.”

Growing impatient and more worried by the second, Haknyeon waved him in. Hyunjoon followed him inside. Under the candlelight, the man’s many earrings shone bright as he stood there, right by the door, unmoving. His hands were clasped in front of him.

“What’s the message?” Haknyeon asked, crossing his arms.

Instead of answering, Hyunjoon pulled an envelope from his coat. 

“He misses you,” Hyunjoon added as Haknyeon accepted the letter. “He didn’t tell me to say that. I’m telling you he does. No matter what he said in that letter, or what you might think after reading it, just know this. He misses you dearly.” 

“He’s not coming, then?”

Hyunjoon shook his head. “Not tonight.” 

Haknyeon tried to pretend the answer didn’t disappoint him. He stared at the envelope in his hands, the color of sand. He didn’t realize how much he needed to see his knight until he wasn’t there. Trying on his most kind smile, Haknyeon looked up to Hyunjoon again. “Thank you for delivering this message. Where should I send a reply to?” 

Hyunjoon stared at him for a moment. Haknyeon couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He finally said, “You will know, once you read it.” 

“Ok,” Haknyeon nodded in understanding, watching Hyunjoon bow again in deference and turn his back to leave. “Wait,” he called before Hyunjoon could walk out the door. The man stopped, turning to him. “Tell him I miss him. A lot. Please? Oh, and take this to him.”

Haknyeon hurried to grab the pie from the table. He hastily covered it with a cloth, wrapping it up as best as he could. He handed it to Hyunjoon. 

For the first time that night, Hyunjoon smiled. He nodded, and finally left. 

* * *

_To Your Highness Prince Ju_

_I debated for a long time whether to start this letter with a “dear”. It’s how I would have written to you, under other circumstances. A “dear” usually asks for a name, but that would be too forward of me, would it not? To use your name as if I have any right to? You never told me, so I don’t feel like I deserve to call you that yet. Am I allowed to call you Haknyeon? Ju Haknyeon? Prince Ju? I don’t believe so._

_I apologize for missing our encounter. There is so much I want to say, and yet can’t seem to find the courage to do so. I don’t expect you to understand just yet. I must say I was surprised to learn your name. It was not something planned. I didn’t mean to pry and find out through others who you were. I merely had to see you, and having no other means to do so, looked for you at the bakery. Someone told me your name. He told me your title. To say I was surprised is an understatement._

_You must know this. I cherish you more than I can put into words. I could write pages upon pages and would not come close to conveying how much these encounters have meant to me. I could not have predicted that by accepting an invitation to eat pie I would find the smile that would feature in all of my dreams from then on. I could not have predicted how comfortable I would feel in your presence. You were a gift that I am not sure I deserved._

_I talk about deserving. What I deserve, as if that is what is important here. I should be worried about what you deserve instead. There is a reason for that. You will agree soon enough._

_Since I so carelessly found your name, without your knowledge, it is only fair that you find mine now. I hope this is not the end. I hope my name will not be the end of this, of us. But hope is a fleeting, deceitful thing. It tricks us into believing in the impossible._

_My name, that I should never have hidden from you, is Kim Sunwoo. I am the son of Queen Nahee and of the late King Kim. Which makes me Prince Kim._

_Do you believe me now when I say I do not deserve this, or you? Surely you do. Perhaps you stopped reading this letter the moment you saw my name. Perhaps that was the last you will ever hear from me. But if you are still here, if you are still reading, trust me on this: you made me happier than I ever thought possible, and your laughter will continue to brighten my darkest days._

_You thought I was a knight on that first night. But I could never be one. I am not as brave or nearly as decent as one. I am grateful for you, and for how beautiful you made me feel under your gaze. I am grateful that you would see someone so deserving of your time in me. I am grateful that you exist, with your kindness and your laughter and your beautiful, unforgettable eyes._

_I am grateful for you, even if you are not grateful for me now that you know who I am._

_Yours,_

_Sunwoo_

* * *

Haknyeon went back to the castle that night with the letter hidden in his jacket. He told Sangyeon about Hyunjoon, and how his knight wasn’t able to attend their meeting that evening, but he didn’t mention the letter. He didn’t know why, but he had a feeling he wouldn’t want to share that with Sangyeon, as close of a friend he was, and had always been.

He was right not to. Safe within his room, Haknyeon sat down on his bed and opened the letter. He admired the calligraphy, messy but not messier than his. Something about his own name written right on top made him take a deep breath before he finally started reading the letter.

He read it several times. He read it, and read it, and read it until his eyes were tired. That couldn’t be happening. 

Kim Sunwoo. Prince Kim.

A Firebender. _The_ Firebender Kim family.

“Youngjae!” Haknyeon called out. “Youngjae!” 

The door to his room opened abruptly, Youngjae running inside with wide-eyes. He had an arm into his sleep robes, slipping the other in as he reached Haknyeon. “What?” He saw the distraught look on Haknyeon’s face and crouched down next to him, one hand on his knee. “Sir? What is it?” He asked, softer this time. 

Haknyeon handed him the letter, but he didn’t wait until Youngjae had finished to say, “He won’t want anything with me. He can’t, right? Neither of our families would allow this. Gods, mother—She’d kill me.”

“She wouldn’t,” Youngjae admonished him, but his eyes fell on the letter again. He read a little more. “He’s… Oh.” 

“How did this happen?” Haknyeon asked, staring ahead, helpless. His head felt like it was trying to put together a puzzle in which each piece caused more pain than the other. “How?”

“Hey. Hey, Hak, come on,” Youngjae stood up to give Haknyeon a hug. He looked on the verge of tears, and he knew that, couldn’t help it. Youngjae sat down on the bed next to him, still holding him, shushing him. “Don’t panic, come on. He still wants to see you,” Youngjae showed him the letter in his hand. “He’s not saying goodbye. Not unless you are.”

“Should I? I don’t want to. But maybe I should? Right? How can we—“ He choked up, searching for Youngjae’s eyes. “This is bigger than both of us,” he managed out. 

Youngjae was looking at him with a mix of sadness and pity that Haknyeon could understand. It was, after all, pretty pitiful. How irresponsible, how silly of Haknyeon to believe he could just have a story like the ones in the songs. To meet someone by chance, and to have that someone be with him, no matter what. That had been childish of him, to believe that was how life worked. To believe he could have some part of his story be considered a happy _something_ , since he didn’t fully expect to have a happy ending.

To understand Haknyeon’s despair, one didn’t need to be particularly involved in the politics of the land. It was a well-known tale of greed, madness, and tragedy. Too recent to have been relegated to the history books, but far enough away in time not to be a current topic addressed by the town criers. There were children’s songs retelling the story, and tales told around the fire whenever someone forgot the dangers of greed.

It started, ten years ago, with King Kim. 

The Kim family was one of the most powerful in the midlands. Known for their forges of incessant fire, the Kims had the finest swords in the land. Their swordsmithing was unparalleled. They were one of the few Firebender families still affluent and wealthy enough to be known throughout the country. King Kim, however, wasn’t satisfied, or so the tale went. He wanted more. He wanted his Kingdom to reach far and wide. He wanted, in one word, power. 

That didn’t sit well with the other families. No one was willing to just give up land, or let a King, no matter how power-hungry, just take over whatever he wanted. There was a system, a reliable, trustworthy system in place—squabbling over pieces of land wasn’t part of it. They hadn’t seen war in centuries because of that, and because the families watched over one another. 

King Kim tried to use his influence and his money. When that didn’t work, he threatened to use violence, the worst of offenses. And to everyone’s dismay, he went ahead with his threats. 

The town he attacked was under the Eartbenders’ reign. The buildings went up in flames in seconds. Hundreds died. The scene, described by the few survivors, was out of one’s worst nightmares. King Kim had tried to bargain his hold on the town and the lands surrounding it, and when he was refused, over and over, he chose to burn it all down. The tragedy was too great. The lives lost were many. 

King Kim was sentenced and executed not long after. His wife Queen Nahee took over the throne which she still held now. The Kims were never involved in any other scandals after that. They lived quietly, choosing to hold their social relations with other Firebender families. Or so the tale went. 

Haknyeon knew that story. He knew it by heart, because the town destroyed by King Kim was under his family’s protection as it was part of the Ju Kingdom. Haknyeon was 11 when it happened, and he still remembered being sent to his room earlier one night, watching from his window, with Youngjae by his side, as his parents and several of their guards rode off on their horses. He remembers thinking they must’ve been in a hurry, for his mother’s hair was falling on her face, and his father wasn’t wearing his crown.

“We killed his father,” Haknyeon, in the present, muttered against the cotton of Youngjae’s robes.

“He killed himself,” Youngjae argued, stroking his hair. “He had no one but himself to blame.”

* * *

_Dear Sunwoo,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. I hope I am not being too pretentious by using not only your name, but a “dear” as well. I can’t seem to stop repeating that name under my breath. Sunwoo. Sunwoo. Sunwoo. It’s such a beautiful name. And you are dear to me, even if things are not as easy as they once were._

_I took some time to think after your letter. I had to, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to form coherent sentences. It was a lot to take in, and I understand why you were hesitant to come to me after learning my name. Learning yours was just as much of a shock, especially at first. I thought it was over, all of this. Please don’t misunderstand, I didn’t_ want _it to be over. But I was scared. I still am._

_I don’t think I can convey all of my thoughts and feelings in a letter. I don’t even think it’s safe anymore, considering letters can be read by third-parties. But still, there is so much I want to say. I miss you so much. I hope Hyunjoon delivered my message. I missed you then, and I miss you now. More so._

_I want to meet you, if you will meet me. Somewhere safer. I will include the address at the end of the letter, but I believe you must know of it already and will recognize it as soon as you set your eyes upon it. It belongs to a friend, one I trust. He agreed to receive us and be discreet about it. Bring whoever you want to bring, if it makes you feel safer. I will be waiting, next Saturday, all day._

_I hope to see you then. Please._

_Yours,_

_Haknyeon_

* * *

The mansion was one of the most beautiful pieces of architecture Haknyeon had ever seen. It sat on a field, a vast, green one, with hills on the horizon and the river close enough for the breeze to carry over. The structure itself was imponent, luxurious, and had an air of grandeur about it that Haknyeon thought suited the owner.

“Younghoon,” Haknyeon greeted as he was brought to one of the living rooms. 

His friend was sitting on a couch, legs brought up against his chest, looking smaller than he was supposed to, considering his actual height. He turned when his name was called, opening a smile that immediately cleared the frown from his face. 

“Haknyeon,” he said. He was the only one in Haknyeon’s life who never bothered with titles. Haknyeon appreciated that. “It’s been too long. How are you?”

“Good question. Hello, Hyungseo.”

The man who had been focused on the canvas in front of him stopped his strokes to turn to Haknyeon and bow respectfully. “My Prince, it’s a pleasure.”

“What are you painting?” Haknyeon walked over, forgetting momentarily whatever etiquette Hyungseo had tried to teach him over the years about interrupting a painter. “Oh, that’s gorgeous.”

The painting seemed to be halfway done, and it showed who Haknyeon assumed to be Younghoon standing with his back turned to them, staring out the window of that same room. The platinum-blond hair was a dead giveaway, even if Haknyeon didn’t know Younghoon enjoyed being the muse of Hyungseo’s paintings more often than not. The colors were still only partially there, but it was clear it was going to be another beautiful work. 

“Thank you,” Hyungseo said, graciously. “Mr Pout over there should be posing, but he got tired.”

“I was bored. I prefer watching him paint,” Younghoon explained. He looked at Haknyeon. “Is your guest arriving soon?”

“I’m not sure,” Haknyeon said. He glanced out the window. “I’m not even sure he’s coming.”

“He is.”

Younghoon sounded so certain. Haknyeon sat down on the couch next to him, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“I wish I was half as certain as you are.”

“No one would leave you waiting without as much as a note,” Younghoon said. He was watching Hyungseo again, so he sounded distant, distracted. “We’ll be gone when he gets here.”

“Thank you,” Haknyeon said.

What he really meant to say was, _I don’t mind. It’s your house, after all, and we can talk in any of your other dozens of rooms_. But he couldn’t bring himself to say that, because he wasn’t sure how Younghoon would react if he knew who exactly was coming. As one of the very few Airbenders with no direct ties to any kingdom, Younghoon was as much of a neutral party as Haknyeon could hope to find. As a marquess, he had his parents’ estate to look after while they were constantly away, but other than that, he seemed happy to spend his days lazing about with Hyungseo and Chanhee. Which reminded him…

“Have you heard from Chanhee?”

“Mmm?” Younghoon forced himself to look away from Hyungseo. “Chanhee? He was here yesterday.” He paused. “He asked after you too, now that I think about it.”

“He did?”

“Yes. He asked if I had heard from you too. He seemed worried? But he wouldn’t tell me what it was about.”

Haknyeon nodded. He didn’t know what to say. Unfortunately, Younghoon picked up on that.

“What happened?”

“It’s… a long story.”

Younghoon uncrossed his legs, leaning forward on the couch, suddenly very interested. “I’m all ears. What does Chanhee know? It has something to do with the man you’re meeting today, hasn’t it?”

Haknyeon opened his mouth, but all he could do was stutter. Thankfully, Hyungseo put down his brush and palette just then, wiping his hands on the apron he had over his fancy robes and calling, “Come on now, love. Don’t be so nosy.” He patted Younghoon’s arm. “Let’s go get changed.”

“But I wanna know,” Younghoon said, looking up at Hyungseo. 

Hyungseo chuckled, patting his cheek. “All in its time, baby. Now come on, I’ll tell the guys to get our horses ready.”

Younghoon turned to Haknyeon, “I swear I can keep a secret. You know I can.”

“I will wear the purple silk shirt if you come now,” Hyungseo called from the door, which finally prompted Younghoon to stand up. He still gave Haknyeon a curious look before following Hyungseo out. Haknyeon could only smile in return, grateful for these people but terribly anxious about the idea of explaining anything just now.

The first couple of days after receiving Sunwoo’s letter had been the worst. Haknyeon kept thinking about Sunwoo finding out his name, realizing who he had been talking to this whole time. He thought about Sunwoo knowing Haknyeon’s family name since he was a child, because they were the ones pushing for his father’s execution. He thought about how wrong it was to accept any sort of kindness from Sunwoo now. It was a spiral of thoughts that ranged from self-consciousness to longing, and if it wasn’t for Youngjae talking his ear off, rebutting every single one of his arguments against reaching out to Sunwoo again, he didn’t know if he’d be there now, waiting for Sunwoo to knock on that door. 

He took another couple of days to organize his thoughts, then finally sent his reply. He was so careful with his words, reading it over and over again to make sure he wasn’t being too demanding, or too careless, or too eager. He missed Sunwoo, and he wanted him to know that (Sunwoo, Sunwoo, Sunwoo, how sweet that name sounded to his ears), but he didn’t want to push him into a meeting he might not want. Youngjae kept arguing with him that Sunwoo had been clear in his letter—he wanted to see him, he wanted him in his life, but Haknyeon was so scared. He needed to hear it. He needed to see Sunwoo say it. 

Younghoon and Hyungseo left shortly after they walked out of the room, their voices carrying in the quiet morning. They sounded happy, which somehow helped ease some of the tension Haknyeon was feeling. They were an interesting pair (or, more accurately, trio) that never failed to make Haknyeon feel like he had stumbled upon a simpler version of things, where happiness was not only tangible but within reach.

After they left, Haknyeon had nothing to do but pace around the room. He didn’t want to mess with Hyungseo’s paints, so he directed his nervous hands to the bookshelves. He studied the spines, pulled a couple of books out, took his time going through a book of family sketches that resembled Hyungseo’s style. It helped keep him busy until finally, right before the sun reached its highest point in the sky, he heard them.

He walked out of the door, too impatient to wait inside. He could see Sunwoo ahead, riding his horse into the property accompanied by someone on a second horse, whose face was covered by a hat. Just the image of Sunwoo was enough to make Haknyeon’s mouth dry. Whatever nervousness he felt, whatever doubts he had, he forgot all about it. The feeling of longing prevailed now, so loud and so clear he wondered how it could’ve been drowned out by worry before.

The two riders stopped a few meters from the front door and stepped off the horses. Sunwoo gave Hyunjoon—because Haknyeon could see now that he was the second rider—the reins to his own horse and started walking over to Haknyeon. It wasn’t until he was under the shade of the front porch that their eyes met. He looked just like Haknyeon remembered him: beautiful, expression carefully neutral, seemingly carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders by how tense they looked. Haknyeon wanted to scream. Haknyeon wanted to kiss him.

“Hi,” he said instead. He was smiling ear to ear, he realized.

“Hi,” Sunwoo said. The moment his face broke into a small, constricted smile, Haknyeon saw the worry in his eyes. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Yes! Yes, of course,” Haknyeon suddenly remembered they were standing outside, in the heat, and motioned to the still open front door, walking inside and saying over his shoulder. “Please, come in. It’s not my house but we’re alone, so technically I’m the host. Would you like something to drink?”

Sunwoo was looking around, studying the entrance hall, following Haknyeon inside. “No, I’m ok. Thank you.”

They reached the living room Haknyeon had taken residence in. The book with the sketches was still on the coffee table, but Haknyeon wasn’t looking at it. 

He was looking at his knight. Right there. In the flesh. 

“I missed you so much,” he said. 

Sunwoo’s eyes met his. There was unspeakable fondness in them, of the kind Haknyeon had never seen before. He said, “And I missed you. More so when I thought I’d never see you again.”

Haknyeon took a step closer but hesitated, unsure if he should. When Sunwoo didn’t move or say anything, Haknyeon took another step, and then another. He stood right in front of him, close, so close. His fingers found the knot of Sunwoo’s riding cape, undoing it and pulling it off him. Sunwoo still didn’t speak—he watched Haknyeon’s face the entire time, like he was scared if he looked away, Haknyeon would simply disappear.

“There,” Haknyeon said, gently draping the cape over the closest armchair. He looked back at Sunwoo. “That’s better.”

He was wrong, he realized. Sunwoo wasn’t afraid of him disappearing. He was looking at him with something Haknyeon recognized, because it was what he had been feeling more strongly than anything else, consuming his every thought. 

Longing.

Haknyeon risked it. He took Sunwoo’s lips on his, afraid to think too much about it. If he did, he would lose his nerve, question whether or not he should be doing it in the first place. But he didn’t want to think, not now. He had been missing him so much. The only thing in his head was: he had a name to go with those lips, now.

Sunwoo, Sunwoo, Sunwoo.


	3. III

Haknyeon had never tasted sweeter.

Not even when they kissed after sharing bread and honey. Nothing compared to how he tasted now, after what felt like so long. Sweet, and loving, and eager. Sunwoo had been doing the math in his head on the way here—they hadn’t seen each other in almost a month. It wasn’t supposed to feel like a lifetime. 

“We should talk,” he said, but still chased Haknyeon’s lips when he pulled back. Haknyeon had to put a hand on his chest to stop him, grinning.

“Yes, we should.”

Haknyeon took his hand and sat him down on the couch, turning halfway to look at him. Sunwoo mirrored him. They just looked at each other for a moment. Sunwoo couldn’t tell what the other was thinking, but Sunwoo was drinking in Haknyeon’s features in the sunlight, how his hair looked just as dark as it had back in that kitchen, under the candlelight. He had bags under his eyes, and his cheeks looked less full, his skin paler. Sunwoo wanted to touch his face, and so he did, cupping his cheek, feeling the curve of his cheekbone. 

“How are you?”

Haknyeon smiled. “You’re the second person to ask me that today and I still don’t know how to answer it. How are _you_?” 

How was he? “Nervous. Grateful that you agreed to see me.”

“Shouldn’t I be the one grateful? You had more reasons not to come.”

Sunwoo let his hand fall on his lap, swallowing dry. “What do you mean?”

“My family. They—You must hate us.”

Sunwoo frowned. “Why should I?”

“We—It’s because of us that your father—“

“Your family did what was right. My father was not... I don’t hold your family accountable. None of us do.”

Haknyeon hesitated. He licked his lips, choosing his next words. “I would understand if you did.”

Sunwoo watched him. He tried to imagine hating Haknyeon, the person he met by chance, and who became such an important part of his life in such a short time. He tried to imagine hating on someone who had that smile, who never said anything that wasn’t kind, or funny, or innocently ridiculous. He couldn’t. He couldn’t imagine one single reason to do that. But Haknyeon was still looking at him with worried, anxious eyes, and Sunwoo knew there was no way he could let him believe, even for a second, that he had any blame in Sunwoo’s personal tragedy.

So he cleared his throat and said, “My father was not a good person. What happened… What you and your family saw happen wasn’t an anomaly. In hindsight, we should’ve seen it coming. He was a harsh, uncaring man, who didn’t understand love.” Here he paused, because Haknyeon had taken his hand, and that made him smile momentarily. He continued. “The official story within the family and the kingdom is that he was mad, but that’s not right. He wasn’t mad, because madness comes from not knowing what you’re doing. It’s an illness, something you can’t control... He was in control, and he knew exactly what he was doing. I should know, I grew up with him.”

Haknyeon didn’t say anything. He was listening attentively, rubbing his thumb on the back of Sunwoo’s hand, holding it tight in his own. It was comforting. Grounding.

“So no, your family isn’t at fault. You have nothing to be sorry for, or to blame yourself for. If anything, we’re the ones to blame. My sister and I were too young to stop it, and my mom—She didn’t know what to do. No one did. I don’t think she ever forgave herself.” 

“I’m sorry,” Haknyeon said. He squeezed Sunwoo’s hand briefly as he did so.

Sunwoo shook his head, “It’s all in the past now. I’m glad he’s gone. Which sounds awful, but it’s the truth. And why you shouldn’t worry about making amends to me. Your family did me and everyone else a favor, at the end of the day.”

They were in silence for a second, looking down at their hands, which were still connected. Sunwoo didn’t know what to say. He didn’t remember the last time he talked about his father so openly like this. After years of processing it, digesting what his childhood had been and the pain his father had caused, he didn’t have much to say in this regard anymore. 

“Are you sure your mother agrees with that sentiment? Queen Nahee?”

Haknyeon’s voice was small, thinner than usual. He was still looking at their hands. 

“I can’t say I’m sure,” Sunwoo said. “We don’t really talk about it anymore. Why do you ask?” 

Haknyeon looked up. “Wouldn’t she be furious if she found out about this?”

“About us?”

Haknyeon nodded.

“Possibly. I don’t know,” Sunwoo said. “Although I’m sure _your_ mother would be furious.” 

With a small, sad smile, Haknyeon nodded again. “She didn’t forget. Even with everything that’s happened since… Let’s just say she’s not very friendly towards Firebenders.”

“If she hates my family, she’s well in her right to do so,” Sunwoo said.

Haknyeon opened his mouth to retort, but didn’t say anything. He brought Sunwoo’s hand to his lips, kissing the back of his hand. He kept it close to him as he said, “I don’t want to lose you. Not for this nor for anything.”

“You won’t,” Sunwoo said, heart hammering against his chest. He had never been more sure of anything in his life. It scared him, somewhat. This certainty. Knowing exactly where he wanted to be, after wandering around aimlessly, looking for _something_. “If you want me, I’m yours.”

“What do _you_ want?”

“You.”

Now, when they kissed, Sunwoo felt the promise on his own lips. He felt Haknyeon’s hands grabbing him more urgently, less guarded. They had agreed to do it, to be together, even if neither knew exactly how that could possibly happen. There was still so much to be said and done, but for now, what mattered was the fact that they were there. Haknyeon said his name once, twice, three times; he kept saying it, kissing Sunwoo, pulling him impossibly closer. If only they could stop time and stay there, away from everything, taking their time to learn every line, every curve of each other’s story. If only things were still as easy as they were in that kitchen with the small wonky chairs and Haknyeon’s perfectly baked cakes.

They couldn’t stop time, but time stopped for them. Just for a while. Long enough for Sunwoo to learn how much he loved saying Haknyeon’s name, just as much as he loved saying Sunwoo’s. 

With the sunlight filtering through the white satin curtains, the guest room upstairs looked as close to a safe haven as it possibly could. Or maybe they were just too at peace for Sunwoo to consider that place anything but his own version of heaven. 

“I’ll be away for a week, maybe two,” Sunwoo whispered. It felt wrong to interrupt the quietness they had found themselves in. He was lying on his back, Haknyeon’s arm around his torso. He could feel Haknyeon’s breath on his neck. “No more than that. I’ll have Hyunjoon send you a message as soon as I’m back.”

Haknyeon turned his face up to look at him. “Can I ask why? Not to pry or anything but also kinda prying, because I’m curious.”

Sunwoo chuckled. “I’ll tell you when I get back. I should’ve left days ago but I didn’t want to leave before talking to you. Or, well, at least before I knew if we were ever gonna talk again.”

“Mm,” Haknyeon hummed, resting his head on Sunwoo’s chest. “Sorry I kept you waiting.”

Sunwoo shook his head, even though Haknyeon couldn’t see him. “Don’t apologize. I’m glad you took your time. Gave me more time to think, too.”

“Yes? And what conclusion did you come to, Prince Kim?” His tone was teasing enough that Sunwoo smiled, despite the use of his last name. 

“I came to the conclusion that you owe me three cakes. For the three weeks we didn’t see each other.”

“I sent you that pie through Hyunjoon, though? Did he eat it or something?”

“Hyunjoon? I’m not sure he _eats_ , to be honest,” Sunwoo said. Haknyeon snorted. “But I did get your pie. It was delicious, but you still owe me another two.”

“We’ll see about that,” Haknyeon said. He stretched lazily, shifting in bed and lying on his back next to Sunwoo, letting their shoulders touch. “I’m hungry now.”

Sunwoo turned to look at him. Haknyeon’s profile was outlined against the window, beautiful, chin jutting out clearer than ever. His forehead was still slightly damp, and Sunwoo felt like brushing his fringe back, so he did. Haknyeon glanced at him with a smirk.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing.”

“Food?”

“I wouldn’t say no to that,” Sunwoo conceded.

“Good!” Haknyeon leaned in to give him a peck on the lips and got out of bed in the blink of an eye, fishing his shirt from the floor. “I’ll try to whip something up. I have no idea what they have in the kitchen but I trust Hyungseo to have at least enough for a dish or two.” He stopped with a gasp, in the middle of tying the knot on his belt. “What if I make pasta?”

Sunwoo couldn’t help it. He knew he had the fondest smile on his face as he said, “Whatever you want.”

“But come help me this time,” Haknyeon said, walking over to grab Sunwoo’s hand, trying to get him up. “Please? You never actually _saw_ me cooking.” 

“No, I just reaped the benefits,” Sunwoo agreed. “Ok, fine. But I’m warning you that I can’t cook to save my life.”

“It’s fine, you can be the eye candy while I cook,” Haknyeon said, winking at him. Sunwoo laughed, and followed him out of the room.

The marquess’ kitchen, as expected, was just as big and glamourous as the rest of the house. The windows were big, letting daylight in, and the wallpaper had a delicate, beautiful floral pattern that seemed to go with the polished wood of the large table. They spent some time trying to find pots and cutlery, and another handful of minutes in the pantry going over ingredients. Haknyeon explained what he was going to make, but Sunwoo didn’t really follow, distracted by how beautiful his hair looked, tousled and thrown back, framing his face. When Haknyeon called him out for not paying attention, all Sunwoo could do was laugh and apologize, too embarrassed to explain why he couldn’t follow his words. 

“You can get the fire going, meanwhile,” Haknyeon said as he started cutting vegetables with the efficiency of someone who’s been doing it all his life. Sunwoo was standing to the side, watching. 

He turned on his heels, staring at the fireplace oven. It occupied half of an entire wall, with two cauldrons hanging over the wood, ready to be put to use. “Huh. I don’t see flint?” He picked up a fire poker that was resting on the wall next to the fireplace. “I’m guessing they use this as a striker.”

“Hyungseo is a Firebender, and some of their house staff too. They just light it up,” Haknyeon said. He was busy chopping onions, so he didn’t see Sunwoo freeze in place. When he didn’t get an answer, though, he finally looked up.

Sunwoo averted his eyes. He put down the fire poker, dusting his hands off on his pants. “I’ll, uh.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll see if I can find some flint…”

“Sunwoo?”

“Yes?”

Haknyeon was watching him carefully. He had stopped chopping. “Everything ok?”

“Yes.” Sunwoo said. “I just… I don’t do it.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Fire,” Sunwoo held Haknyeon’s surprised gaze. “I don’t usually do it. I _can_ , I just don’t. I’d rather not.”

Haknyeon stared at him. “Why not?”

“It’s not exactly harmless, is it?” Sunwoo tried to go for light, but his laugh sounded hollow even to his own ears. “Fire equals destruction. I don’t like that.”

“It doesn’t necessarily equal destruction,” Haknyeon argued. 

Sunwoo disagreed. He had been disagreeing with it for years, now. Hyunjoon, his mother, his friends—everyone who knew of his aversion to using his powers had tried to dissuade him of it, but Sunwoo still couldn’t bring himself to do it. He wasn’t sure if it was stubbornness or something else. He rarely tried to look at that part of himself, if he was being honest.

But right now Haknyeon was looking. And he was curious. 

“Sunwoo,” Haknyeon called, voice so soft it sounded more like an endearment than his own name. Haknyeon put down the knife and grabbed a towel to wipe his hands, walking around the table to get closer to Sunwoo. “Hey, look at me?”

Sunwoo did.

“Is this about your father?”

Sunwoo nodded. There wasn’t much to say there. It still felt like a confession of sorts. Haknyeon nodded, too, in understanding.

“Fire isn’t all about destruction, you know,” Haknyeon said. He touched Sunwoo’s face with the back of his hand, searching it with his eyes, so serious. Sunwoo was taken aback with the intensity of his gaze. “Your power is only a weapon if you hold it that way. Otherwise, it can be anything you want.”

“That sounds truer than it is in reality.”

Haknyeon frowned. “You’re wrong,” he said simply, bluntly. “And I’m sorry you feel that way. You shouldn’t. Your power is a gift.”

“Maybe not everyone deserves a gift, then,” Sunwoo replied.

“Maybe,” Haknyeon agreed, and Sunwoo was surprised—he didn’t expect him to. “But until you can prove to me why you don’t, I still think you deserve it. Your gift. And you deserve to be comfortable enough using it. But that’s just my opinion.”

He gave Sunwoo a brief kiss on the corner of his mouth and a warm smile before walking back to the table and picking up the knife. He resumed chopping onions, saying offhandedly, “There’s flint in the pantry. Top shelf, to the right.”

Sunwoo didn’t say another word about it. 

Unsurprisingly, the food was delicious. Haknyeon made enough for them and for Younghoon and Hyungseo, who Sunwoo didn’t know, to eat later. It was a complete dinner, with three main dishes and several servings on the side. They ate in the kitchen, choosing to forgo the richly decorated dining room. It was comfortable that way.

Haknyeon was telling him another one of his stories. It felt just like before—before names and titles were a thing with them—, when they were still at the bakery. Sunwoo was laughing, and the enormity of his life didn’t seem all that big anymore. Not when Haknyeon looked so excited telling him how one of the cows he was helping herd had escaped four grown men, including Haknyeon himself, and three of their most agile guards. Sunwoo caught himself staring again, mesmerized by Haknyeon’s smile. He barely saw the time passing until the sun was starting to set on the horizon.

There was a lull in the conversation. He knew they had to say goodbye now, but he was loath to do it. How could such a day end?

Sunwoo started gathering their empty plates, standing up to bring them to the sink. Haknyeon stood up too, “I can do it, let me—”

“You cooked, it’s the least I can do,” Sunwoo interrupted him. He started working on the dishes, peeking outside the window that sat just in front of him. “It’s a beautiful day out.”

Haknyeon approached, sneaking his arms around Sunwoo’s waist. He rested his head on Sunwoo’s shoulder. “It is. We can meet here again next time too, if you don’t mind.”

“Isn’t that too much to ask of your friend?”

“Mmm. I don’t think so. As long as I tell him every sordid detail, I think he’d be glad,” Haknyeon said, making Sunwoo laugh. “He’s a good guy. It’s thanks to him I get to bake.”

“How so?”

“Chanhee and Younghoon go back a long time. Long story short, Younghoon likes to make people happy, so when he heard I couldn’t really cook at home, he got me in touch with Chanhee, who let me bake for him at the bakery.”

Sunwoo watched a flock of birds in the distance as he rinsed their plates. He wished Haknyeon wouldn’t let him go; it felt so good to talk like this, with his body against his. “You can’t cook at home?”

Sunwoo felt Haknyeon shake his head. “My mother is… difficult.”

“Will you tell me about her?”

“Someday. Not today.” Haknyeon said, before adding: “We’re really _dishing_ today, huh.”

He laughed when Sunwoo sighed. “Please tell me that wasn’t a pun.”

“It was. A really good one.”

“You tell yourself that,” Sunwoo said, but he was laughing too. 

Saying goodbye was easier this time. When Sunwoo arrived at the marquess’ house, he couldn’t imagine how the day would go. He didn’t want to be pessimistic about it, but it was hard not to. Worst case scenario, that would be their last meeting. Best case scenario, nothing would change between them. What he didn’t expect was for it to change, but for the better. He felt closer to Haknyeon; not because now he knew his name but because he had been honest. He had laid his heart out. There was nothing to be scared of anymore. Not while he had Haknyeon’s smile.

They promised to meet as soon as Sunwoo was back from his trip. They kissed goodbye, and Haknyeon gave him two apples for the ride home—one for him, one for Hyunjoon, who was by the stables when Sunwoo came out of the house. It felt not like parting ways, but like making a promise. To come back here. To find each other again.

Sunwoo got teased by Hyunjoon for his unwavering smile as they rode back to the castle, but he didn’t mind. He was happy. And he knew Hyunjoon was happy for him, too.

* * *

Prince Ji was just as much of a sweet, soft-spoken gentleman as Sunwoo remembered him being. 

Sunwoo arrived at the Ji Kingdom quicker than expected, due to good weather and quiet roads. They met for lunch the next day, served in a large dining room that overlooked the valley below the hill where the castle sat upon. It was just them, their valets, and one of Prince Ji’s sisters, Princess Changsoo. It was as amiable as their first dinner had been, weeks ago, at the Kim estate. They talked about their families, their respective kingdoms, the weather. It was friendly, and a lot more informal this time around. 

The atmosphere within the castle was a relaxed one, with both the King and the Queen away on official business with their eldest daughter and reigning princess. After lunch, everyone gathered at one of the sitting rooms to play cards and drink. Sunwoo was surprised to find Prince Ji had some banter in him; he was just as witty as his sister, and both of them were infinitely better than Sunwoo at cards, which made for some very entertaining losses. Hyunjoon was better than him, but he refused to play after one round, choosing instead to lounge on the couch, watching the game with amusement.

It wasn’t until later, when the bottles of alcohol had long been empty and Princess Changsoo had excused herself, that Sunwoo had a chance to broach the subject that had brought him there in the first place. One look at Hyunjoon had been enough; his friend asked Prince Ji’s valet, a tall man with a kind smile, if he could show him the property, claiming he could use some fresh air. The theatrics weren't exactly necessary, but Sunwoo appreciated it. 

He looked up from his lap to find Prince Ji’s eyes already on him. He had a pensive expression.

“This isn’t just a social visit,” he stated. 

Sunwoo gave him a small smile. “Nothing gets past you, huh, Prince Ji?”

“Again, please call me Changmin.”

“Only if you’ll call me Sunwoo.”

“Deal,” Changmin said, content. He changed his position on the couch so he could rest his feet on the coffee table. Catching Sunwoo’s look, he said, “Don’t tell Changsoo. She’s a bit too obsessed with the furniture.”

Sunwoo chuckled. “I won’t.” 

There was a pause. Changmin was clearly waiting for whatever it was Sunwoo had to say, and Sunwoo… He had practiced the words in his head, and then with Hyunjoon, but that didn’t make it easier.

“This isn’t just a social visit, no. I wish I could say it was.” He cleared his throat. The words were there, on the tip of his tongue, but he thought them silly, now. He tried a different course, “Do you ever wish you could forgo this? Your position?”

Changmin raised an eyebrow. He thought for a second. “I won’t say it’s always rainbows. There are some expectations, yes. But I think our situation isn’t entirely too similar, either.”

“Isn’t it?”

Changmin shook his head. “See, I’m the youngest in my family. While yes, I do need to do my part, and carry the legacy, most of the burden lies on my sister’s shoulders. Changhee has it the hardest, always had. She’s the one supposed to sit on the throne, she’s the one who had to learn proper queen etiquette since she was 10. I’m guessing that’s what you’re referring to, correct?”

Sunwoo nodded minutely. 

“It’s harder for you. I get it. Sometimes I wonder if Changhee wanted something different for herself. Freedom to do as she pleases, to begin with.”

Sunwoo still didn’t say anything. He watched Changmin’s face, his understanding smile. 

“We’re not getting married, are we?” Changmin asked.

“No. I’m truly sorry,” Sunwoo tried to convey how honest he was about it. How sorry he was. “I wish I could say I can continue with this, but the truth is, I can’t. I don’t have a lot of freedom, and I don’t think I will ever have it in its entirety, but recently I’ve come to realize I have choices. If I have a say in some part of my life, that’s already something, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely,” Changmin agreed. He rested his face on a hand, watching Sunwoo curiously. He didn’t look upset, or even surprised with the news that Sunwoo wanted to break off their arrangement. “I may be wrong, so apologies if this sounds weird, but you look different, Sunwoo.”

“Different?”

“Happier. Compared to when we first met, months ago. You were already looking different when I met you at the dinner party weeks ago, but there’s something else, too. I don’t know how to explain it. You just look less… burdened.”

Sunwoo considered that. He remembered his first meeting with Changmin at a formal occasion, so many months ago, when their mothers introduced them with equally pleased smiles. Back then, Sunwoo had thought Changmin—Prince Ji—looked clever, younger than his looks would suggest, with lively yet mysterious eyes that told him nothing other than he was a good-looking man. Right now, Changmin looked like a friend. Someone who was willing to listen and not judge. 

“I guess I am happier. Isn’t it selfish, though?”

“What is? Not going through with this marriage?”

Sunwoo nodded.

“I don’t think so,” Changmin thought for a second. “Some people might think so. They might think you need to live for the tradition, for your kingdom, but _that_ is selfish of them, isn’t it? It’s not like us getting married would have a positive impact on anything other than our family trees.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“Nothing is ever easy,” Changmin argued with a smile. It was an echo of Sunwoo’s father’s words, from so long ago, but it sounded somewhat different. Gentler. Kinder. “But I have the benefit of perspective. And from where I stand, making yourself miserable isn’t the best way to honor your name, or to serve your people, or to please your mother, even. It helps no one, really, if you think about it.”

Sunwoo knew that. He had experienced firsthand what a miserable, unloving leader looked like. It didn’t end well for anyone. He swallowed dry, averting his gaze to stare out the window for a moment.

“My advice?” Changmin said. Sunwoo looked back at him. “Chase that. Whatever it is that you found in the past few months that gave you that easiness to your smile. You’re going to make a great king one day, Sunwoo. And I hope I’m there to see it, as a friend.”

* * *

_Dear Haknyeon,_

_This letter will probably not find you before I do. I could wait to tell you all of this in person, but the words won’t leave me alone. Maybe I will hand you this flimsy piece of paper when we meet, in hopes you can understand the hurried letters and the smudged ink. Maybe I won’t have to, because I will be there to say it so myself._

_For a long time, I considered myself a pawn. It is incredibly nearsighted of me, as royalty, to say that, I am aware. But at the same time I never felt I had much of a choice in where I was heading. I was always following orders, directions. The Queen would dictate my entire life and I would have no say in it, because why should I? I’m her prince. I thought that was all I ever would be. A prince. Nothing more._

_But I_ am _more, am I not? I have feelings, and desires. I have a heart, and I am capable of chasing happiness, wherever should I find it. It seems obvious, but it wasn’t, not to me. It is still a foreign concept to me in some ways. And the weirdest part of all of this is that I had to meet another prince—you—to teach me this._

_Because you did teach me that. You reminded me I was a person, not just a title. You reminded me there’s still so much to laugh about in the world, so much food to taste, so many stories to hear, so many places to visit. You make me want to live, truthfully, not just exist. I will never be able to thank you enough for that. For awakening what is human in me._

_It sounds like I’m pushing all the responsibility for my hopes and dreams in your hands, and I don’t want you to think for a second that I am asking you to hold yourself responsible. You don’t owe me anything. I owe you everything. For being you, and for letting me peek into the vastness of your heart. For letting me in. For making me happier than I ever remember being._

_I am making choices I wouldn’t have made before you._

_What wasn’t a possibility is present in your arms._

_I am because you are._

_Yours (forever yours),_

_Sunwoo_

* * *

The letter stayed in his coat, close to his heart, all the way home. Sunwoo said goodbye to Changmin, who promised to visit sometime around the end of the year. They parted as friends, closer than they were before, when they were supposed to be fiancés. The irony wasn’t lost on Sunwoo. 

The skies were gray, heavy clouds hiding the sun. Sunwoo kept thinking about his mother, and how he would explain what he had done to her. It wasn’t as much as fear, but dread with the prospect of disappointing her. She had always tried her best, even when her duties should have driven her cold. The thought of disappointing her was a painful one, but Sunwoo tried to remember this was for the best. She wouldn’t have wanted him to enter a failed marriage. She, of all people, would understand, even if Changmin was nothing like his father.

“You know he’s not going to be heartbroken, right?” Hyunjoon asked, pulling him out of his thoughts. 

He was sitting across from Sunwoo in the carriage, which wasn’t always a guarantee, as he sometimes liked to ride next to the driver, letting the wind blow on his face. But today he was in there with him, watching him. 

“Who?”

“Prince Ji,” Hyunjoon said. There was a trace of a smirk dancing on his lips. “You shouldn’t worry about him.”

“I’m not,” Sunwoo said, which was only partially a lie. He had been so worked up over his own problems that he hadn’t had the time to worry about Changmin’s. “I mean. Maybe I should be.”

“You shouldn’t. He’s surrounded by people who love him dearly. He’ll be fine.”

Sunwoo looked— _really_ looked at Hyunjoon. He was definitely smirking now.

“What is it?” Sunwoo asked, narrowing his eyes. That smirk usually meant mischief. 

“I thought you’d never ask! I didn’t want to say anything before we left, but…” Here Hyunjoon lowered his voice conspiratorially, as if they weren’t alone in the carriage. “I’m pretty sure there’s something going on between the prince and Juyeon.”

“Juyeon?”

“His valet. Tall, nice smile, great arms, looks a little dumb?”

“I know who his valet is,” Sunwoo said, trying not to laugh and failing. “They’re together?”

“Either together or having a _lot_ of fun together. Probably both,” Hyunjoon said, staring out of the window, wistful. “I don’t know who I’m more jealous of, to be honest.”

“If we’re still speaking of pretty valets, he should be jealous of me.”

Hyunjoon kicked his shin playfully, noticing Sunwoo’s smile towards him. “Shut up. You’re getting so cheesy. If this is Prince Ju’s doing, I’m gonna have to talk to him.”

The mention of Haknyeon’s name was enough to make Sunwoo’s stomach flip in excitement. He thought about the letter hidden in his coat. He thought about Haknyeon’s smile, and how much he missed him already. It had been a mere six days since their meeting, and yet...

He didn’t realize he was smiling until Hyunjoon said, “You’re so disgustingly in love it’s cute.”

“Now _you_ shut up.”

“Very eloquent, Your Highness.”

* * *

There were matters to attend when Sunwoo arrived at the kingdom. The clouds he had seen hanging dark on the road brought heavy rain to the kingdom and the neighboring farms; there were repairs to be made in two of the nearby towns, and farmers were asking for support from the royal staff, which demanded Sunwoo’s full attention. 

He didn’t want to leave Haknyeon waiting for longer than two weeks, as he had promised he wouldn’t, so he sent the letter he had brought from the Ji Kingdom, along with a note explaining he’d get in touch again as soon as possible. There was enough work to do that Sunwoo couldn’t just turn his back on everyone and run towards Haknyeon, as much as his heart begged him to do just that. Patience, he told himself. They had all the time in the world, after all.

It was another five days for the rain to let up before they started to get all the repairs going while still trying to tend to the farmers’ petitions. Sunwoo had been working for two days on coordinating requests while simultaneously overseeing repairs in town when Hyunjoon pulled him aside, discreetly but urgently enough to get Sunwoo’s attention.

“Something’s happened,” he whispered, pulling Sunwoo by the wrist. They were in town, watching as a group of town workers and royal guards worked on a partially collapsed roof. The sun was setting, and the air was still humid after so much rain. 

Hyunjoon dragged him until they turned a corner and found themselves in a small alley between two tall brick buildings. Sunwoo didn’t have to ask what this was about, because as soon as they turned that corner, he spotted Choi Chanhee, the baker he had met once.

“My Prince,” Chanhee said, bowing his head slightly. He looked distraught, cheeks pink like he had run there, eyes wide. Sunwoo was immediately on high alert. “I have a message for you.”

“What happened?” Sunwoo asked, because he knew something had to have happened. He could feel it in his gut. Something was wrong, terribly wrong.

Chanhee licked his lips before saying, as fast and as quietly as he could, “Haknyeon—Prince Ju is leaving. They’re taking him away.”

“Away? Where?”

Chanhee ignored him, “There’s not much time. If you want to say goodbye, you should come now. We’re not even sure this is gonna work, but it’s the best we could do under the circumstances.”

Goodbye? 

“Take me to him, please,” Sunwoo pleaded. 

Chanhee did. He took Sunwoo and Hyunjoon to the outskirts of town in quick strides, avoiding the main streets like someone who knows exactly the path they’re taking. When they reached the old temple, an imposing building that had been vacant for years since the new temple had been built, Sunwoo was driving himself insane with worry, trying to come up with a scenario that would explain what was happening. Chanhee refused to explain; as subservient as he was towards Sunwoo, he refused to say much more, claiming it wasn’t his place. All he kept saying was that Haknyeon was being taken away. Sunwoo had one chance to say goodbye. That was it. 

As they reached the backyard of the temple, Sunwoo spotted a knight in full armor. His hand flinched towards his own sword, but the knight raised both hands in a gesture of peace.

“Prince Kim,” he bowed. He had a frown on his face, and looked just as worried as Chanhee. “I’m Sir Sangyeon. I will take you to Prince Ju, if you’ll follow me. But we need to hurry. Thank you, Chanhee.”

Chanhee nodded, giving Sunwoo one last look before turning around to leave the way he came. “Good luck,” he said.

“I have a horse prepared for you,” Sangyeon explained, walking back towards the trees, where Sunwoo spotted two horses with saddles on. Green saddles, carrying the Ju Family crest on it. The knight turned to them again. “This must be Hyunjoon.”

Hyunjoon bowed his head. 

“You can both ride the horse, but it would be faster if you rode alone.” Sangyeon explained. “And less obvious, too, once we reach the kingdom.”

“Go,” Hyunjoon said, squeezing Sunwoo’s wrist. “I’ll get my horse and wait by the road. Should anything happen—”

Sunwoo knew what he meant. They had devised that system years ago, but never had any reason to use it. Three flames into the sky, the signal that one of them needed help. Hyunjoon squeezed his wrist again. Sunwoo nodded.

“I know. Eyes in the sky.”

“Eyes in the sky,” Hyunjoon echoed back.

Sangyeon helped Sunwoo onto the horse, then rode his own ahead. He had given Sunwoo a riding cape, dark green with golden trims, and told him to wear it over his own dark clothes. When they got closer to the castle, Sunwoo was to pull the hood up. 

They couldn’t talk on the way there. Their horses were fast, and they were riding as fast as they could, the wind wheezing past Sunwoo’s ears, drying up his eyes. He wished he had something, anything to explain what was happening. He felt cold, not because of the wind, but because of dread. He thought about the fact that Haknyeon had never replied to his letter, and how stupid of him it had been to not have worried, to not have suspected something was wrong—

“Hood up,” Sangyeon called ahead. They were slowing down, and Sunwoo could see the castle now as they cleared from the line of the trees, high and imponent. “Don’t make eye contact. Chin up.”

Sunwoo did as instructed. As they rode past the first guards, Sunwoo kept his head high, but didn’t meet anyone’s eyes. He followed Sangyeon past more guards, past an old iron gate, and into the Ju estate. The castle was even more breathtakingly beautiful up close, with vines growing into stone, giving it an ethereal, fae-like quality. Sangyeon took him to the back, straight into the stables. 

Once they had stepped down, Sangyeon tied the horses to a post as quickly as he could, explaining, “The Queen and the princesses will be back for dinner. It’s not a lot of time. I will call for her personal guards so you can get to Haknyeon’s room. I will keep them outside, but they need to go back upstairs before the Queen arrives, otherwise she’ll know. Just follow me and act like you’re one of the knights following my orders.” 

He gestured for Sunwoo to follow him towards a heavy wooden door on the back of the castle. They entered a kitchen, busy at this hour, but aside from an older woman by the fire giving Sangyeon a heartfelt goodnight, no one paid them any mind. Sangyeon waltzed into the kitchen like this was nothing out of the ordinary, picking up a pear on the way to the stairs to the left. Sunwoo followed, careful not to draw any attention to himself.

They went up the stairs to the second floor. Sangyeon led him through a long corridor that ended in another staircase, this one much more magnificent, with red velvet covering the steps. The corridor on the third floor looked similar to the one they had just left, but Sunwoo didn’t get a good look at it as Sangyeon led him to a door immediately to their right, which opened to a small study. There were two desks and three bookshelves lining up the walls, but the room was empty otherwise. 

“Wait here,” Sangyeon whispered. “I’ll call the guards. Wait until you’ve heard all of them leave. His room is the second door to your right once you leave this room.”

“Why does he have people guarding his room?” Sunwoo asked. It was word vomit, the nervousness getting the better of him, after going so long without an explanation.

“I’d rather let him explain it. Talk to him. Help him, if you can. Although I don't know if anyone can, at this point,” Sangyeon looked pained to say so. “I’ll go now.”

He left Sunwoo there, closing the door behind him. Sunwoo could hear him calling out the guards on the entire floor, his loud voice booming within the stone walls, something about new instructions in case of an intruder. Sunwoo would’ve thought it funny, had he not been sick with worry by then. 

When he heard the steps dying in the distance, he cracked the door open. The corridor was quiet. Sunwoo left the room, finally looking up and down—he couldn’t see anyone. Following Sangyeon’s instructions, he turned right until he reached the second door. He knocked briefly, but didn’t wait for an answer, just turned the knob and let himself in. He closed the door behind him at the same time as he spotted someone sitting on the floor, with his back against the bed. 

Haknyeon.

Their eyes met when Haknyeon looked up. He stood up, surprised.

“Sunwoo?”

Sunwoo didn’t wait to be invited inside. He had been so worried on the way there, so anxious, imagining all sorts of terrible things, that he just walked into the room, straight into Haknyeon’s arms.

“Are you all right?” He asked, pulling back from the hug (how much he had missed him, _Gods!_ ) to cup Haknyeon’s face, scanning every inch of skin in sight. 

“I’m not hurt,” Haknyeon said, which didn’t answer his question. “How—What are you doing here?”

“Chanhee said you were in trouble. Sir Sangyeon brought me here. They arranged everything,” Sunwoo knew he was doing a terrible job at explaining it, but he was still so relieved to hold Haknyeon, to _see_ him, he couldn’t come up with a better way to put it. “What’s going on? Why are there guards outside your room?”

Haknyeon’s face changed, like he had a sudden urge to cry but held himself back at the last minute. Sunwoo felt his own heart wrenching. “They’re sending me away. I don’t know when, but they are. The guards are there so I don’t leave.”

Sunwoo stared at him. Haknyeon looked like he had lost weight; his hair was unkempt, all the shine lost. He looked like someone who hadn’t seen the sun in days. “You’re being kept prisoner in your own room?”

“That sounds awful, but yes. I guess that’s what’s happening,” Haknyeon nodded, going for a sad smile. Sunwoo kissed his cheek. He didn’t know what else to do with the pain in his chest. His brain was in panic mode, trying to understand what Haknyeon was saying. 

“But _why?”_

“I received your letter.” 

“You did?”

“Mother saw it,” Haknyeon said. Sunwoo’s stomach dropped. “It was stupid of me, I was holding onto it, reading it in the music room, and she demanded to see it, I shouldn’t—I should’ve seen it coming—”

“Haknyeon. Hak. Hak, breathe,” Sunwoo was cupping his cheeks, trying his hardest not to let the despair he felt show on his face. Haknyeon closed his eyes, shaking his head. 

He was still trying not to cry, Sunwoo realized. Taking his hand, Sunwoo led him to sit on the bed with him. There was so much he wanted to ask, but there wasn’t enough time, and he didn’t want to overwhelm Haknyeon, who already seemed to be dealing with enough on his own. 

“Talk to me. What happened? Why are you going away?” A beat. “Is it because of my letter?”

Haknyeon smiled, finally meeting his eyes again. He looked so sad. So miserable. “The letter was the excuse they needed. Remember when I told you you wouldn’t want to marry me? That I’m not exactly husband material?”

Sunwoo nodded, confused. 

“There’s a reason for that. My family has been looking for a reason to send me away for years now. My mother tried to avoid it, which is why I’m still here, but she was always going to give in. Always. I’ve always known that. I’ve always known they were going to have their way.”

“Why?”

“Because I tried to kill them.”


	4. IV

Haknyeon didn’t mean for Sunwoo to find out like that. He thought they would have more time. He thought they would have at least _some_ time.

Growing up, Haknyeon had been kept close to his parents’ side. As the middle sibling, he wasn’t going to receive the attention his older sister was bound to have anyway, as the child supposed to inherit the throne, but it wasn’t until he was old enough to question things that he noticed he was kept a little _too_ close to home. It wasn’t until he turned 15 that he understood why. 

His mother’s family came from a long line of Earthbenders. For all intents and purposes, the Jus were the most powerful Earthbenders of the midlands, and one of the most powerful in the country. Haknyeon’s father, Haknyeon would learn rather late, wasn’t one of them. He never learned how or why, but his father kept his Waterbender nature mostly a secret from everyone in the kingdom. He was a kind, wise man, who was always there by the Queen’s side, and who didn’t advertise his own prowess. When he fell ill a little after Haknyeon’s 17th birthday, they procured every healer and magus in the land, but that wasn’t enough. His body failed him, and he was gone after a couple of miserable months.

Haknyeon was inconsolable. His father’s death was a hard blow, one he wasn’t anticipating, that robbed him of all the air he needed to breathe. He wanted to scream, but he had no strength left in him to do so. His sisters were there, and so was his mother, but they were all feeling the same pain. It was just as hard for them. The siblings were bereft, while their mother rose to her position as Queen, providing her late husband with all the honors she could. 

One day, they came unannounced. 

Haknyeon knew them, of course. His family was one of tradition, so he had seen his uncles and aunts before at family gatherings. They were an imposing bunch—some from far, far away; some living just a few estates over. They had been a constant in their lives, Haknyeon would learn later, more even than his child eyes could ascertain at the time. There were matters their parents hadn’t discussed with the three siblings; family turmoil they hadn’t shared, thinking their children too young to understand. Haknyeon knew now they were trying to shield them. 

The comments were more like jabs. Jokes that seemed to go too far, laughter that seemed to belittle the tragedy the family had gone through not months before. At first Haknyeon was shocked speechless, unsure how to react. They were his mother’s relatives, sure, but they couldn’t be that cruel, could they? To joke about his father’s passing, to make it sound like such a trivial, even welcome matter. It wasn’t until someone, one of his most despicable uncles, said something along the lines of _something had to be done before it was too late_ , that it clicked.

He inquired them, pushed them. He asked them over and over again if they had had something to do with it. They were by the beach that day, the younger cousins enjoying a ball game, the elders sitting around under comfortable tents, food aplenty. Haknyeon didn’t know what made him so certain, but in that moment he knew, he just _knew_ that his father’s death hadn’t been a common illness. He had been murdered. And these people had something to do with it.

Anger filled him to the point of suffocation. His grief burned bright inside of him still, and he felt so betrayed by the mocking smile on his uncle’s face. He felt so small by the way they looked at him, pointed at him, asked him what he meant to do, the poor thing? _His father was nothing more than a nuisance, a spot in their otherwise unblemished lineage. He should be glad to have him gone_ , they said. 

Haknyeon wasn’t thinking. He let the anger take hold of him, infuriated, desperate to make them feel it. The pain. The sea behind him grew calm, then angry. Someone pointed it out in a curious voice, but before anyone could understand what was happening, Haknyeon had controlled the water. It rose, and rose, and rose, until he had a wall of seawater behind him, twirling angrily, taller than anything around them. His family was watching in horror; servants were running away, terrified. There were kids crying. Haknyeon was staring at his uncle, at his awful, heartless face, baring his teeth. He demanded the truth. 

His uncle stuttered, denied everything, said he didn’t know what he was talking about. His father had been ill. The illness had taken him. Haknyeon roared, the water growing more violent behind him. His relatives tried to step back, and Haknyeon stepped forward, the wall of water advancing with him. His uncle whimpered, begging him to stop. Haknyeon wanted an answer. He wouldn’t let him go without one. Without the truth. 

The arrow hit him on his left shoulder. He dropped unconscious with the force of the blow, the water splashing everywhere around them. He would learn later that one of his relatives’ knights had shot him. But he had missed, as he had meant to hit his heart. 

Haknyeon was supposed to die that day. He had been marked for death since then, openly so, not a hushed secret between his most vile relatives. His family advocated for his imprisonment, claiming he was unstable, a risk. They wanted him committed somewhere far away, far from the throne, from the kingdom; to them, he was not only a Waterbender but a dangerous one, capable of terrible things. The only reason he hadn’t been sent away had been his mother and sister’s protection. They had shielded him from their family, and from anyone who wasn’t in their immediate circle. It cost him his freedom. It cost him his mother’s love.

She did her best, but she had been badly affected by it. First by the loss of her husband, then by Haknyeon’s episode at the beach. He had found her by his bed when he finally woke up after getting that arrow to the shoulder, and saw the fear in her eyes. The mistrust. She was shocked. She was scared. 

She loved him, but she feared him, too.

It hurt, but Haknyeon was grateful nonetheless. He knew it was no one’s fault but his own that his mother didn’t know what to do with him. He knew she still loved him, and that protecting him cost her a lot, including the anger directed at her by her family. It was what it was. He was a Waterbender like his father. He almost killed people in front of her when he was 17. He almost died. There was nothing about all of that that he could change now.

Not a lot about it was common knowledge. There were rumours that Prince Ju had a secret, that he was supposed to be sent away at any given point; some crueler whispers said he had the same illness as his father, and his demise was coming, sooner rather than later. Some believed him mad. Some believed him feeble-minded, afflicted with questions of the soul. No one outside of the castle and not belonging to his bloodline knew he was a Waterbender. No one would ever know, if it was up to his mother’s wishes.

When he finished telling his story, Sunwoo was watching him in silence.

Haknyeon had had a lot of time to think in the past few days, alone in his room. Youngjae had been expelled from the castle on the day the Queen ordered Haknyeon to be guarded in his room; he had tried to help Haknyeon break free, and had taken a punch to the face for that when they were found sneaking downstairs and he tried to tackle a guard twice his size. Haknyeon hadn’t seen him since, but he had heard from Hakyoon that Youngjae had been kicked out by their mother, who unauthorized him from coming back. Ever since, Haknyeon had been alone with his thoughts. Sometimes Hakyoon came by his room and spoke to him through the closed door—no one was supposed to have access to him, but the guards were lenient enough with the princess to let her talk to her brother. She cried on the first day, saying that it was unfair, that he shouldn’t leave her. Haknyeon promised her it would be all right, even though that was a lie.

There was nothing much to do, was the conclusion he had come to in those lonely nights in his room. Whatever he thought he had found, whatever fairytale he thought he was living, it was short-lived. He should’ve known better than to drag Sunwoo into the mess that was his life. 

He should’ve known better than to fall in love. 

“You told me the scar on your shoulder was from playing with your sister,” Sunwoo said, voice so low, and soft. He was still holding Haknyeon’s hand, thumb brushing the back of his hand.

“I lied,” Haknyeon said simply. “I thought I’d have more time to explain.”

Sunwoo couldn’t seem to look away. Haknyeon held his gaze.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all of this. For bringing you into this. I didn’t even know you were engaged to someone else, I should never—”

“I’m not engaged. I never was,” Sunwoo interrupted him. “There was an arranged marriage set up by my mother. I broke it off before it could be officially announced. That’s why I had to leave. I went there to give an end to it.”

Haknyeon nodded, trying to find his next words. It felt weird to be bringing this up now, after he had just confessed to almost murdering his own family, but he wasn’t in his right mind. He was so scared, had been for days now, that having Sunwoo there with him made him feel safer than he had in Gods know how long. He sighed, catching a breath he didn’t know he needed so much until now.

“My sister mentioned that there might be a wedding next year. A Firebender wedding. I was curious, because I thought it might be someone you know, or someone from your family, but when she said—She said it was Prince Kim. I was so shocked. I think that’s why I was careless with your letter, I kept reading it, trying to understand how—Why you hadn’t told me,” Haknyeon felt tears pricking his eyes again. He felt so _stupid_. “My mother saw me, she must’ve seen it in my face, because I’m an _idiot_ —”

“Don’t say that.”

“She must’ve seen it, and when she saw me with your letter, she demanded to read it, and I shouldn’t have let her, Sunwoo, I shouldn’t—”

Sunwoo hugged him. Haknyeon let himself be held, allowed himself to cry just this once, hiding his face on Sunwoo’s chest. He thought he would have more time. Why did he think that? Why did he ever think that? Why did he let himself hope, and dream, when this was how it was all going to end, anyway?

“I love you,” Sunwoo whispered against the top of his head, holding him tight. “You’re not going anywhere. I won’t let it happen.”

Haknyeon wanted to ask him _how,_ but he didn’t have the heart to. How could he explain that it was over, that there was nothing they could do now? All Haknyeon could do was hold onto him, let Sunwoo kiss the top of his head, relish the few moments that he knew were their last. When he pulled back to kiss Sunwoo, he could feel the salt of his tears on his lips, but Sunwoo didn’t say anything. He kissed him tenderly, hands cupping his face like Haknyeon was the most precious thing in the world to him. Haknyeon let himself enjoy that—he let himself cherish that moment, tried to commit the feel of Sunwoo’s lips to memory, so he could never forget what it felt like to kiss him.

From outside, they heard Sangyeon’s voice dismissing the guards. Haknyeon let Sunwoo pull back, feeling like half of his heart stayed there on the palm of Sunwoo’s hand. 

“Thank you for trusting me,” Sunwoo said. “For telling me your story.”

“Thank you for listening,” Haknyeon said, and he meant it. “And thank you for coming. Now go. Don’t let them find you here.”

Sunwoo kissed him again, briefly, whispering, “I’ll be back for you.”

He left just as quickly as he came. Haknyeon watched him go, pulling the hood of his green riding cape up before closing the door behind him—the cape worn by the knights of the Ju Kingdom. 

Only then did Haknyeon realize he never said _I love you_ back.

* * *

Haknyeon couldn’t sleep well that night. He held his breath when Sunwoo left his room, trying to hear for shouting, any sign that he had been spotted, but everything was quiet. He imagined Sunwoo had been successful in leaving the castle, and thought how much he owed Sangyeon for that. Sangyeon, who had been aiming for the position of Queen’s Knight all his life, risking it all to help Sunwoo in and out of the castle. Haknyeon didn’t know how he could ever repay that. 

He tossed and turned on his bed, fitful, trying not to worry too much about the next few days, finally falling asleep when he heard birds starting to chirp away outside. He felt lonely, and his dreams reflected that—he was alone in the bottom of a well, screaming for help, but no one would come. When he woke up with someone touching his shoulder, he screamed for real.

“Haknyeonie, it’s me,” Hakseo said. For a moment Haknyeon thought he was still dreaming, but when he looked up, he saw his older sister there, standing next to the bed. “Get up, you need to come downstairs.”

“Why?”

Haknyeon let her help him up. It was early, but not too early—the sun was high in the sky, and Hakseo was perfectly dressed already, golden threads carefully weaved in her hair. She handed him a robe to put over his night clothes and ran a hand through his hair to tame it down. 

“Come on,” she pulled him by the hand. Haknyeon’s brain finally caught up with what was happening when he saw the open door. 

“I can’t leave,” he said. 

“Yes, you can. Because I said so. I’m overruling mother just this once,” Hakseo explained. She brought him out of the room, immediately fixing her posture when a couple of the guards met her eyes. She looked a queen in every way, and no one tried to stop her when she led Haknyeon down the hallway, towards the stairs.

There was some commotion in the front hall downstairs. Guards and kitchen staff were standing there, speaking amongst themselves, though the voices got lower and lower as Hakseo and Haknyeon approached. Hakseo led him towards the throne room, taking the long way around, which would take them to the side door used by the royal family themselves, instead of the front door used by everyone else. That way, when she pushed the door open and led Haknyeon inside, they were next to the throne, facing the room and whoever came in from the tall, double doors.

Haknyeon’s mouth dropped open.

Sunwoo was there, dressed head to toe like a reigning prince—including a ruby encrusted crown. He was kneeling down in front of the Queen, who was standing up in front of the throne. Haknyeon couldn’t see her face well from this angle, but he could see Sunwoo’s. He was as serious as Haknyeon had ever seen him. He looked the very picture of a prince. Several steps behind him, Haknyeon spotted Hyunjoon, but that seemed to be the entirety of Sunwoo’s entourage. The others in the room were guards, and royal advisors; Haknyeon’s mother’s guards and royal advisors. Some of them had their hands on the hilt of their swords.

“What do I owe the pleasure, Prince Kim?” The Queen was asking as they came in. 

Sunwoo looked up from his kneeling position. If he saw Haknyeon, he pretended not to. He didn’t look away from the queen’s face.

“I come with a request, Your Majesty. A proposal.”

Haknyeon found Hakseo’s hand and held it in his. She gave it a squeeze.

“A request? What request would that be?”

“I am here to ask Prince Ju Haknyeon’s hand in marriage.”

There was a moment of silence. Haknyeon’s heart was beating so fast he thought it would break free of his ribcage at any second now. He looked from Sunwoo to his mother, standing there, frozen in place, to the guards around the room. His eyes landed on Sunwoo again. He was holding the Queen’s gaze, jaw set, still down on one knee.

“Is this a joke?” The queen’s tone was icy. Sunwoo wasn’t deterred.

“It is not, Your Majesty. I have every intention to marry your son if you will let me.”

“Stand up,” she said, and Sunwoo did. “You must think me a fool if you think I would let my only son marry one of your kind. _You_ , of all people.”

Sunwoo didn’t show any reaction. He stood there, holding his head high, looking at the queen as an equal as she went on.

“I let you into my lands and into my home in good faith. I could have shot you dead the moment you crossed our borders. I could, and maybe I should have,” she said. Haknyeon squeezed Hakseo’s hand harder. “Had I known it was for this kind of ridiculous joke.”

“It is not a joke, Your Majesty,” Sunwoo repeated. His voice was level. “I have every intention of marrying Prince Ju.”

“That is _absurd_.”

“Is it? More than keeping him prisoner in his own home?”

Haknyeon flinched. Hyunjoon’s eyes found his. He shook his head minutely. _Don’t interfere,_ it seemed to say. The atmosphere was heavier now than it had been a second ago. The queen stood in silence for a long time, staring Sunwoo down. Anyone would have averted their gaze by now. Haknyeon himself did, more often than not, when he was in the receiving end of her cold, severe eyes. But not Sunwoo. He kept his head high, his eyes on hers.

“Who do you think you are? What do you think you know about my family?”

“I am Prince Kim Sunwoo, and I do not claim to know your family. But I do know your son. And I am here to ask for his hand in marriage.”

“And if I say no?”

“I would find another way to give him his freedom back.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Only if you take it as one, Your Majesty.”

There was another moment of silence. When the queen finally spoke again, her tone was vicious. 

“Just like your father. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, indeed.”

Haknyeon could see how the words affected Sunwoo. He faltered, blinking once, twice. He was visibly clenching his jaw.

“You are mistaken, Your Majesty.”

“Am I? Interesting.” The queen sat down on the throne. She dismissed him with a hand, which was as much as slapping him in the face according to tradition, considering he was of similar standing and just as much royalty as she was. “Now leave, and do not come back. No, you may not marry my son. And be warned: If you cross into our lands again, I will have you shot dead before you can reach the gates.”

Sunwoo receded, not before shooting Haknyeon a look. He looked like he wanted to apologize; Haknyeon wanted to kiss him. They couldn’t do either of those things before Sunwoo was out of the room, Hyunjoon following him closely behind.

“Haknyeon,” the queen called. She had heard them coming in, then. Her voice was different, much more like the woman who had raised Haknyeon and much less like the ruthless leader she posed as just now. She sounded tired. She turned just enough to meet his eyes, but she looked away just as soon as she did. “You know this is for the best. I can’t let you—I can’t trust them. You shouldn’t, either.”

Haknyeon walked up to her. He crouched down next to the throne, touched her arm. He could finally see her face, and the pain he saw there made him sick. She wasn’t happy about it, any of it. It wasn’t like her to let him see that, not since she had risen to the position of queen. It pained Haknyeon, too. 

“Trust is a hard thing to come by around here, mother,” he said. “But I trust him.”

“I don’t,” she was firm. “You’ll be safer in the mainland.”

“And if they kill me before I get there?”

His mother gave him an angry look. “They’re family, Haknyeon. They wouldn’t. Don’t be absurd.”

Haknyeon didn’t answer that. He knew then that it was futile to argue. Whether it was filial piety or simple denial he didn’t know, but she had always refused to see it. The idea that her husband had been murdered by people in her own family was never one she entertained. Nothing was going to change that, and Haknyeon was aware. Which was why Sunwoo’s attempt to ask for his hand had been a fool’s errand, and why Haknyeon didn’t say anything else to his mother, choosing instead to kiss the back of her hand and walk away without another word. 

Haknyeon’s sister took him back to his room. They were quiet on the way upstairs, but as soon as they entered his room, she closed the door behind them and turned to Haknyeon.

“That took guts. What Prince Kim did.”

“Yes,” Haknyeon said. “Thank you for, you know. Letting me be present. That will cost you a lot. Mother isn’t happy.”

Hakseo smiled at him. She looked sad. “I can deal with her. I’ve been dealing with her all my life. I’m just glad I’m not the only one fighting for you.”

They had never been close as siblings. Haknyeon had always been closer to Hakyoon, as Hakseo was always off somewhere, being primed and readied for her position as reigning princess. That didn’t mean they didn’t love each other, however. Hakseo had stood up for him more times than Haknyeon could count, even when it cost her their mother’s anger. He wished they could’ve been closer. He wished he could say he knew what she felt like in her position, cut off from her siblings, playing the perfect princess for the world. He realized, with a pang to the chest, that they didn’t know each other very well.

She turned to leave. Before she could open the door, though, Haknyeon asked, “Promise me you’ll look after Hakyoon after I’m gone?”

“Promise. But you’re not going anywhere if it’s up to me.” They both knew it was pointless, and that she didn’t have that much power to stop the queen’s orders and their entire family, but it was the thought that counted. To Haknyeon, anyway.

He could be mistaken, but he could swear he saw tears in her eyes before she turned on her heels and left.

* * *

_My one and only Sunshine,_

_I don’t know if this letter will reach you. I don’t know anything at this point. Someone I trust said they would try their best to get this letter to your hands, and I trust them to do so. But if it never finds you, I will try to remember these words in case I can tell them to you, personally, one day._

_You wrote to me once that hope is a dangerous thing that makes us believe in the impossible. I can see that now._

_I can’t say things are fine. They are not, mostly because I feel sorry for bringing all of this upon so many people. Upon you. None of you deserved the storm that descended upon you when I entered your lives. You don’t deserve to be caught up in this chaos. No one does._

_But I also can’t say I’m not glad to have you. Even if my definition of “have” is flimsy at best. I don’t have you any more than you have me right now. We’re stuck on the edge of this cliff, and there’s only one way forward, but we’re both so stubborn, we refuse to just fall. You do, anyway. I was ready to let myself fall._

_There is this quote that I can’t stop thinking about these days, while locked in this room. (It’s a very nice room, but there’s just so many times I can count the birds on the duvet. And if I read another book I’m going to lose it.) I don’t know who said it first, but a friend of a friend once told me, “the sunset, like survival, exists only on the verge of its own disappearing. To be gorgeous, you must first be seen, but to be seen allows you to be hunted.” He was talking about something else entirely that is not the point of this letter, but for some reason, these words keep coming back to me now._

_To be gorgeous, you must first be seen._

_To be seen allows you to be hunted._

_You saw me. For some reason, you thought coming back to see me was worth it. I never thought of myself as someone worth of anyone else’s time. Not after what happened. I did my best to keep to myself. I turned to cooking, because it was a way to share experiences without actually putting myself in someone else’s way. I hid myself within myself, which sounds very poetic but it’s just my inability to use words like you. But you saw me, and made me see myself in turn. Does that make sense? Maybe I’m just losing it in here._

_You saw me and made me feel, if not gorgeous, at least alive. You say I awakened what’s human in you; well, you made me alive, too. For once I could say I was happy in my skin. I didn’t blame myself. I saw myself through your eyes and saw a person, not a past._

_And now I’m being hunted. Quite literally._

_I should never have let you get so close. I knew where I was headed, and I knew there was only so much time before my family won and sent me far enough away to never be spoken of again. And that is making me feel so guilty, because I should have warned you. Since the beginning, I should have told you. I’m so sorry I didn’t. I’m so sorry it’s come to this._

_What you did the other day was incredible. You were amazing. Remember when I said you looked like a knight? I still stand by that. You looked like you could slay dragons. You looked every bit like the man I came to love._

_I never got a chance to say it back to you that day. But I need you to know this: I love you. More than I should, considering my situation. And if this is the last you hear from me for a long time, or maybe forever, I need you to remember that. Remember that I love you._

_Thank you for standing up for me. Thank you for seeing me for who I am. Thank you for reminding me I am more than my past._

_Thank you for showing me what love looks like._

_Yours,_

_Hak_


	5. V

Sunwoo was pacing back and forth in his room. He had been doing that for a while now. Haknyeon’s letter in hand, Sunwoo paused when he caught Hyunjoon’s eyes on him.

“What?”

“I’m worried,” Hyunjoon said. He had been sitting on the windowsill, watching the sunset on the horizon, but now he was looking at Sunwoo. 

“Well, that makes two of us.”

“No, I’m worried about _you_. You’re going to do something stupid.”

Sunwoo scoffed. “I can’t afford to do something stupid.”

He couldn’t. He knew asking for Haknyeon’s hand wasn’t the perfect plan, but it was the most obvious, so he had tried that first. When that backfired, he asked his mother. It wasn’t a pleasant conversation, explaining in the same breath that he had broken things off with Prince Ji _and_ that he had tried to ask for Haknyeon’s hand in marriage. His mother wasn’t happy, but she wasn’t angry either once Sunwoo explained what was happening. He didn’t go into too many details—it was Haknyeon’s story to tell, not his—but he told her enough to ask for her help as Queen Nahee, and not only as his mother.

Now all he could do was wait.

“I just need you to promise you won’t get yourself killed,” Hyunjoon said. “Can you promise me that?”

Sunwoo hesitated. “Did you see something?”

Hyunjoon didn’t answer. Which was frustrating, but to expected—only a fourth magus, Hyunjoon didn’t have that many gifts as his late grandmother, but he had some that would sometimes tell him things. Problem was, he didn’t usually share those. And Sunwoo didn’t bother him because he understood it wasn’t as clear-cut as some people believed it to be, whatever it was that made Hyunjoon _see_ things. 

And right now, he was more scared of the answer than he dared let on. 

“No one’s going to die,” Sunwoo said instead, both to Hyunjoon and to himself.

The door to the library opened then, and in walked his mother’s handmaiden, closely followed by Queen Nahee herself. 

“So?” Sunwoo asked, anxiously.

His mother shook her head. “I’m sorry, love. The Queen won’t see me. My attempts to reach her have been fruitless. I can’t intercede for you, or for him.”

“Is there anyone else who can? Who should I be reaching out to? Are we on speaking terms with any Earthbender family with influence?”

The Queen looked from Sunwoo to Hyunjoon, choosing her next words carefully. “We can’t help, Sunwoo. She was very clear with her last message. If we try to interfere she will consider it an act of war.”

“ _War?”_ He looked at everyone in the room, one by one. “Why would this be an act of war?”

When no one answered him, Sunwoo turned around and kicked the first inanimate thing he could see. The chair toppled over, but it didn’t help with his frustration at all. If anything, it made him feel worse. He crouched down, hiding his face in his hands. Now he was kicking things, too. 

_The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, indeed._

His mother’s arms were around him then, hugging him. He felt strangely small, like he was 10 again, and his mother was hugging him tight, whispering soothing words to assure him his nightmares hadn’t been real. Except now she wasn’t whispering anything. There wasn’t anything to say that would help. There was nothing they could do. The nightmare was real.

* * *

_Dear Hak,_

_Do you know what has been going through my mind the entire week?_

_“Without you, the emotions of today are nothing but the dead skin of yesterday's emotions.”_

_Did I remember it right? I can think of your voice saying it, but can’t bring myself to look at the words myself. What would be the point, if I can’t speak the language they’re written in either? What would be the point, if you wouldn’t be there to hold the door open for me and tell me exactly what it meant?_

_I don’t know the language, but I understand the meaning perfectly now. It sounded beautiful when I first heard it. Now it sounds truthful. Eerily so. Like a warning that once I crossed that door, that threshold, it would come to be true for me. It did. Without you, there is no present me. You helped me grow out of the numbness that held me together. With you, emotions are important. Without you, they’re nothing but dead skin._

_I am not giving up. I will find a way to get you out of there._

_It’s a promise._

_Yours (forever yours),_

_SW_

* * *

Sunwoo thought he was going crazy.

He reached out to anyone he thought he trusted. Friends, acquaintances, distant family members he hadn’t spoken to in years. He sent letters. He took the road that led to the Ju Kingdom several times, hoping for some sign, some link between the outside and the inside. He reached out to Chanhee, at the bakery, and then to Younghoon, at his estate. No one knew what to do. He found Youngjae, Haknyeon’s valet, and learned of Youngjae’s attempts to come up with a plan, too. He had been the one to reach out to Chanhee and Sangyeon in the first place, because he knew Haknyeon would want Sunwoo to know what was happening. Sunwoo thanked him, wishing Youngjae could be of help again, despite not knowing how. 

Each day seemed to last weeks, at the same time that it felt like time was running by too fast. 

On the seventh day since his failed proposal, Sunwoo was in the middle of writing a letter to Younghoon—another one, throwing out ideas and suggestions that Younghoon could take to his ambassador father, in hopes of a diplomatic interference—when the door to his room opened all of a sudden. He was startled, nearly toppling the bottle of ink on his desk when he turned around to find a panting Youngjae. Hyunjoon was right on his heels, and his face showed enough alarm to get Sunwoo to stand up.

“They’re moving him,” Youngjae said, so fast the words were mangled together. “They’re moving him now, he’s leaving now.”

“What?” Sunwoo’s blood turned cold. “Where?”

“The port. In Pohang. They left an hour ago, I only heard it now—”

Sunwoo was moving. He didn’t wait for the rest of Youngjae’s explanation; he brushed past him and out the door, picking up his sword and coat on the way. The other two followed him, but he wasn’t waiting for them, nor did he care if they came or not. His head was trying to do the math, trying to figure out if he was too late, if there was still time to catch up to them. One _hour_ ahead. Fuck.

“Sunwoo, wait—What are you going to do?” That was Hyunjoon. Sunwoo didn’t bother answering. He went down the stairs two steps at a time, practically flying out the doors. The night air hit him in the face, cold and unforgiving.

“My horse is out front, I’ll meet you at the road,” Youngjae announced as Sunwoo and Hyunjoon ran to the stables. 

Sunwoo’s hands were shaking as he threw the saddle over his horse’s back. He needed to make it. He needed to be there. He needed—

“Sunwoo,” Hyunjoon grabbed his hand, made him stop and look at him. His face showed fear. It was weird to see that on Hyunjoon, the most fearless person Sunwoo knew. “Sunwoo, please. Don’t do anything you’ll regret later.”

“I’ll regret it if I don’t do anything. If I let them take him away. They can’t do that.”

“No, they can’t.” Hyunjoon stared at him for a second before pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Be brave.”

Sunwoo didn’t know what to say to that, so he just nodded. Hyunjoon let him mount his horse then, running over to his own horse a couple of boxes over. Sunwoo knew he could keep up, so he didn’t wait, just rode out of the stables and into the cold night, with one thing in mind.

He’d get Haknyeon out of there, one way or another.

* * *

The night sky was clear, with no clouds in sight. That helped with the road ahead of them. Pohang Port was hours away, but that was by carriage; Sunwoo had never rode there on horseback, and he was hoping that would buy him some time. He was terribly cold. His teeth were chattering, but he didn’t know how much of that he should attribute to nerves. Youngjae was right next to him, with Hyunjoon bringing up the rear. Somewhere in the turmoil inside his head, Sunwoo was grateful for them—he would have come alone, but the fact that he didn’t _have_ to was what was making him thank the Gods, the stars, and anything else that could possibly hear his silent prayers.

Sunwoo had never been a religious man, but he wasn’t above appealing to some higher power at that point.

Finally, after what felt like too long, they crested over a hill and saw a dark mass in the horizon that could only be the ocean. Youngjae cried out in relief; his leg had been cramping up, he said, but he didn’t ask them to stop. Their horses were starting to tire, too, but they pushed ahead. Nothing would get Sunwoo to stop now. He’d run the rest of the way if he had to.

As soon as they could discern the carriages ahead, parked a mere hundred or so meters from the small port, Sunwoo tried to find Haknyeon. It wasn’t easy. It was dark, and there were more people there than he expected, at least a dozen. He finally reached the last carriage and leaped off his horse, not caring about subtlety as he called out, “HAKNYEON!”

At least three guards ahead turned to him. Two of them started pulling out their swords. Sunwoo didn’t stop. He kept walking towards the group of people clustered closer to the edge of the water. There was only one ship on the water, ready to be embarked. Sunwoo kept looking, trying to find him, “Haknyeon!”

“Sunwoo?” 

Haknyeon was just ahead, being escorted by two guards towards the ship. His hands were covered in what looked like coarse fabric, and he was holding them in front of him like he had his hands tied. Now that Sunwoo was closer, he could see that there were three people in fancy robes even further ahead, watching him as servants brought up baggage and boxes up the ramp that led to the ship. As soon he met Haknyeon’s eyes, Haknyeon made to move in his direction. The guards with him held him back, while the other guards that had been alerted to Sunwoo’s presence started walking towards Sunwoo, swords in hand.

It had been a while, but Sunwoo still recognized the tingling sensation on his fingertips as he lit up his hands, making fire rain down on the grass around him. The guards were taken by surprise, stumbling back as the fire grew taller, effectively walling Sunwoo up and keeping them from approaching him.

“You are not welcome here, Firebender!” One of the people up front shouted. It was a man with a cruel face and dressed like royalty, though Sunwoo didn’t recognize him. He remembered Haknyeon’s story, the description of a man so despicable his face looked like it was locked in a perpetual sneer. One of his uncles, then. 

“I’m not leaving without Prince Ju Haknyeon,” he shouted back. He met Haknyeon’s eyes, tried to convey as much certainty as he could. 

“Guards!” The man called, and Sunwoo had little warning before he noticed two guards holding up bows. He grew the fire around him, effectively burning away the arrows before they could reach him. By now Sunwoo was standing in the middle of a small inferno. The night wasn’t cold anymore; it was burning bright and hot, and he could feel it, could feel the power in the tips of his fingers. It shouldn’t feel this familiar, after so long, but it did.

He tried to remember what it felt like to speak with the fire coursing through his veins. He remembered simpler times, when he’d follow Hyunjoon’s lead and watch the flames dance on his palm. When fire felt friendly, warm. He remembered laughter, and light, and beauty. It was so much easier back then. It came so naturally to him, even before he had learned not to burn his clothes, or his eyebrows. Once upon a time, this meant happiness.

Then came the pain. Harsh words that burned deeper than any fire he could ever conjure. Violence that came to be synonymous with what had once been his happiness. 

Fire had the power to destroy. He knew that all too well.

The fire around him grew taller still. Sunwoo moved his hands and opened a corridor that went straight to where Haknyeon was standing in between the two guards. He knew exactly what he was doing when he made the flames lick the boots of the guards, never touching Haknyeon—who knew better than to move—but circling him in a way that forced the guards away. One of them had to roll on the grass to take out the fire on his clothes, screaming. Haknyeon ran to Sunwoo, following the path he had opened for him and putting some distance between him and the people close to the ship, who Sunwoo assumed were his relatives. 

“Are you all right?” Sunwoo asked. 

Haknyeon nodded. He looked confused, surprised, scared. He was sweating profusely, and Sunwoo realized the heat must be unbearable for him. Sunwoo used his sword to cut off the fabric around Haknyeon’s wrist, and then the rope that tied them together. His anger flared up at the sight of the roughed up skin where the rope had burned him. Haknyeon met his eyes.

“Let’s get out of here,” Haknyeon said, just as his uncle shouted from closer to the ship:

“You can’t just run away, boy! Neither of you can,” he called out. “Take them down!” He ordered the guards.

The arrows came flying towards Sunwoo again. Except that no, not at Sunwoo. At both of them. They weren’t just trying to shoot Sunwoo this time. 

He stopped the arrows with fire again, but he didn’t let the flames down this time. He grew them taller and taller still. Sunwoo was burning inside, too, anger making his blood boil. He lifted a hand and threw a fireball towards the ship. It exploded against the wood, splinters flying everywhere, making the people closest to it scream and cower in fear. Someone was calling Sunwoo’s name, but he wasn’t listening. He could almost taste destruction on his lips. He threw another fireball, this time at the ramp. A couple of people jumped into the water to duck. 

Sunwoo set the trees around them ablaze. He could see the vicious man who had ordered the attack on them, the way he was staring at Sunwoo in horror. Sunwoo wanted him to feel as much fear as Sunwoo himself had felt. He wanted to make him regret, wanted him to never touch Haknyeon again, never speak to him again. He raised his hands, imagined fire running from his feet towards the group of people—

_“Sunwoo!”_

Haknyeon was grabbing his arm with so much force he was sinking his nails into his skin. Sunwoo blinked, meeting his eyes. Haknyeon shook his head.

“It’s not worth it. Don’t do it. Please. _Please._ ”

“They don’t deserve to get away from this,” Sunwoo growled. The fire was crackling so loud, he didn’t know how Haknyeon could hear him. 

“They don’t. But you do. Don’t do this to yourself.”

Sunwoo looked at the odious man again. He was trying to run away now, but the trees surrounding the port were on fire, as was the ship; they were stuck in that small patch of land between Sunwoo and the sea. He wanted to make them suffer. He wanted to make them feel everything they had made Haknyeon feel all those years, since Haknyeon’s father's death, the feelings of not being worthy, of not being deserving of a happy ending. 

He wanted to make them feel pain.

Haknyeon cried out. Sunwoo looked down and realized his hands were still on fire, and that Haknyeon had burned himself trying to reach Sunwoo’s face. He still did it, cupping Sunwoo’s face, making him look him in the eye. 

“We’re not our pasts,” Haknyeon said. He kissed Sunwoo. One, two, three times. “We’re not. Please. Please, stop.”

Sunwoo let the fire in his hands die out. With a growing sense of shame, he realized what Haknyeon was trying to say. If he were presented with a mirror right now, would he see his own image, or that of his father? Sunwoo hated himself for that. He hated what he was doing, what he _wanted_ to do. Haknyeon was looking into his eyes, pleading, begging him. 

He let down the walls of fire. His blood ran calmer, the tingling sensation on his fingers gone. It was still a blazing inferno in the clearing, with the trees still burning bright, the fire spreading out and away from Sunwoo’s control. Haknyeon smiled. It was his big, beautiful smile, and Sunwoo felt so undeserving of it. Haknyeon kissed him, whispered a small _thank you_ against his lips, and turned to the sea. 

The ship rocked in place as water rose from the ocean. Some people screamed, but Haknyeon had it perfectly under control, using it to douse the fire on the trees around them. It was as beautifully strange as something can be; the ocean rising against the cloudless night sky to put out the fire burning everything around them. Sunwoo was mesmerized.

When the only fire left was the circle Sunwoo had kept around them and the fire still going on the ship, that he hadn’t bothered to put out, Haknyeon said, “Done.” He called out to his family, “And we are done, too.” They were retreating into the trees now that the fire was out. Sunwoo thought he saw a glimpse of the vicious man from before, Haknyeon’s uncle, but he couldn’t be sure. He wished that was the last he saw of that man, of those people, ever. 

Sunwoo kept an eye out for guards, but they were all leaving, scurrying away without looking back. The ship was slowly sinking, the fire eating away at what wasn’t already in the water.

Haknyeon took his hand. Sunwoo looked down, noticing the little holes burned through his shirt. He looked at their hands together, then up at Haknyeon. 

“We should go,” Haknyeon said. “You ok?”

Sunwoo couldn’t find his words just yet. He nodded and let the circle of fire die out so they could walk back towards the way he came. As soon as they turned around, someone ran into Sunwoo, into a hug he wasn’t expecting. Hyunjoon didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. Sunwoo could practically feel the worry seeping away from him as he hugged him back.

“That was _insane_ ,” Youngjae said, coming right after Hyunjoon and hugging Haknyeon. He had the biggest smile on his face. “Like, totally insane. Oh my Gods. Are you ok? Are you hurt anywhere?”

“I’m good,” Haknyeon said. “But we should really leave. Actually leave.”

“Absolutely. Yes. Totally agree. This way,” Youngjae said, walking ahead back towards their horses and running his mouth the whole time. 

“He can’t stop talking when he’s nervous,” Haknyeon told Sunwoo as they followed him. “Just be glad he isn’t crying.”

Haknyeon was still holding his hand. That felt like the only thing keeping Sunwoo tethered to the Earth; everything else felt out of focus, unimportant. He was so relieved to have Haknyeon with him, alive and well, smiling at him, that everything else around them seemed inconsequential. There was a silent storm inside of him, questions that he wanted answered, about himself and what he had almost done that night, but that would have to wait. He felt tired and depleted, and he knew it was his body’s way of responding to the absurd exertion he had put it through.

They rode back towards a nearby village they spotted on the way there. Haknyeon took the reins, letting Sunwoo hold onto him and rest his head on his shoulder. They needed to let their horses rest for a bit before they rode back home. As they laid on a patch of grass, huddling together for warmth under a tree, Haknyeon looked up at the stars. Sunwoo looked at the stars in Haknyeon’s eyes.

“Thank you,” he whispered. 

They were alone, technically, so the whispering was unwarranted. Hyunjoon was taking watch, resting up against a different tree a litle ways away; Youngjae had gone into town looking for some drinkable water. Haknyeon smiled at him. 

“Shouldn’t I be the one thanking you?”

“No. You pulled me back from the edge of the cliff,” Sunwoo said. Haknyeon’s face softened as he recognized his own words. “I was about to fall. You didn’t let me. So thank you.”

Haknyeon considered his words for a second. He turned on his side so they were facing each other, noses almost touching from how close they were. 

“You’re welcome. But also, thank you,” Haknyeon said. Sunwoo could feel the words on his lips. He never felt closer to anyone than he felt now, in Haknyeon’s arms, under the stars. “You saved my life.”

“Do you think they would have—?”

Sunwoo couldn’t finish his sentence. It felt too awful, a possibility that would haunt his nightmares for years to come. Haknyeon nodded, and he didn’t need to use words to convey how close that came to being a reality. He kissed him, a feather-like touch of lips just to reassure himself that Haknyeon was there. They had made it. 

Haknyeon drifted to sleep soon after. Sunwoo wouldn’t have been able to sleep even if he tried. He closed his eyes and counted their breaths. 

They were alive.

* * *

They got back on their horses as the sky turned pink, the sun rising timidly behind the hills. Sunwoo took the reins this time, and the ride back home felt much shorter than the ride to the port had been, despite the fact that they weren’t going as fast. There was no hurry now, no hopelessness eating Sunwoo away from inside out. The sun was bright and warm, promising better days ahead—or so Sunwoo hoped, surprising himself. 

At the castle, at last, they afforded themselves some time to wash the soot from their skin, and to eat as much as their tired bodies would let them. Haknyeon looked paler than ever, the dark circles under his eyes those of someone who’s on the brink of exhaustion, something Sunwoo didn’t notice the night before. He ate happily, making friends with the kitchen staff despite the tiredness in his voice. After that, they retreated to Sunwoo’s room, and Sunwoo fell asleep immediately, reassured by Haknyeon’s body warmth next to him. They slept for most of the day, and when Sunwoo woke up to moonlight, he was relieved to find Haknyeon still there, snoring faintly against his shoulder.

The day after, they woke up with Hyunjoon knocking on the door. It was early in the morning, and the birds sang beautifully just outside the open window. 

“You have guests, Prince Ju,” Hyunjoon said. He was smiling, which was a good sign, but Sunwoo was still suspicious. He looked at Haknyeon, who was sitting up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

“Guests?”

“Princesses Hakseo and Hakyoon.”

Haknyeon’s sisters were standing in the throne room. Sunwoo had never met them officially, had just caught a glimpse of Princess Hakseo, but the resemblance was clear—they had Haknyeon’s nose, and when they smiled at Haknyeon, their eyes lit up just like Haknyeon’s. He spotted Sir Sangyeon, too, standing in the back. He bowed his head when their eyes met, smiling.

Hakyoon ran to Haknyeon as soon as he walked into the room, and he kneeled down to hug her. She didn’t look older than 8, 9 years-old. Sunwoo addressed the reigning princess, bowing, “Your Highness.”

She bowed back. “Your Highness. I apologize for coming unannounced, but this felt urgent.”

“Of course,” Sunwoo said. He was watching Haknyeon whisper something to Hakyoon, making her giggle. He smiled. “You are welcome here at all times.”

“Thank you.” She cleared her throat, getting Haknyeon’s attention. He stood up again, facing her. “I learned only last night about what happened. I came to see how you were, Haknyeonie,” she said, voice turning soft for a second there before she turned to Sunwoo again, “and to pledge peace between our kingdoms, as reigning princess of the Ju Kingdom.”

Haknyeon met Sunwoo’s eyes for a second. “And mother?”

“She won’t bother you. Or you,” Princess Hakseo said, turning to Sunwoo again. “I’m aware she threatened war over this matter, but it won’t come to that. I’m making sure of that, so you don’t need to worry.”

“Thank you,” Sunwoo said. He bowed again, feeling a bout of gratitude for her that he couldn’t put into words. He wondered if his mother should be here for this, but Princess Hakseo didn’t seem to think so. She was taking matters into her own hands, and was trusting Sunwoo, as reigning prince, to do the same.

“Are you going to live here now?” Hakyoon asked Haknyeon. 

Haknyeon smiled at her, glancing at Sunwoo. “One day at a time, Yoonie. But I’m staying here for now, yes.”

“But it’s _so far,”_ Hakyoon whined, making the three of them laugh. “You’re not going to be there when I’m practicing the piano anymore?”

“We have a piano here,” Sunwoo suggested. She eyed him suspiciously. “And a big music room. My sister plays the violin, too. You’re welcome to visit and practice here, My Princess.”

“Can I?” Hakyoon asked Princess Hakseo, who nodded. “Ok then! Thank you, Mr Prince!”

“Call me Sunwoo and I’ll ask the kitchen staff to arrange some sweets for your trip back,” he said, winking playfully at her. She hid behind Haknyeon in a fit of giggles.

“We should be going now,” Princess Hakseo said. She was smiling wide, watching the scene. She opened her arms, “Can I give you a hug too, Haknyeonie?”

“You don’t need to ask,” Haknyeon said, walking over. He said something to her as he hugged her, which she answered in kind, but it was just for their own ears. 

Hakyoon ran over and hugged both of them by their waists, making them laugh and hug her back. It was so incredibly heartwarming, and a relief, too. Sunwoo had been worried about what would happen, what would be the next steps; if they would have to engage in a political dispute with Haknyeon’s mother, which could be painful and awfully traumatic. But it would never have to come to that. Haknyeon was loved, no matter how much his extended family wanted to think that he wasn’t. He had people supporting him, including his own sister, who seemed ready to leverage her own power against their mother and their entire family for Haknyeon’s sake.

Princess Hakseo turned to Sunwoo one last time. “Take care of each other, please. And if you need anything, you know where to find me.”

“And me!” Hakyoon said. Haknyeon pinched her cheek, laughing.

“We’re here for you, too, should you need us,” Sunwoo said, and he meant it. Hakseo seemed to understand. She nodded, giving Haknyeon one last kiss on the cheek before leaving, escorted out by Sir Sangyeon and holding Hakyoon’s hand.

* * *

Things started to fall into place. Youngjae moved in that week, two days before Prince Hakseo sent over as much of Haknyeon’s things as she could in a carriage. Queen Nahee finally met Haknyeon, giving him a warm hug and an even warmer smile. If she worried about the political upheaval that could come from their actions, she didn’t let it show. Sunwoo suspected she was happy for them, for him. They had to explain what had happened that night at Pohang, and when Sunwoo’s voice failed him, trying to put into words how he almost turned it into a bloodbath, Haknyeon picked up where he had left off; she eyed him curiously, nodding in understanding. She didn’t comment on it any more than they did, and Sunwoo was grateful for that.

“I always wondered if I’d be like him,” Sunwoo said one night. He was sitting on the windowsill in his room, watching Haknyeon go through the clothes his sister had sent him as he tried to organize them in a newly emptied wardrobe. His words made Haknyeon look up. “Like my father.”

“How so?”

“If you hadn’t been there to stop me, I would’ve killed them. Wouldn’t I?” Sunwoo smiled sadly. He looked away, at the moon. It was a weird thing to think about. “Maybe I’m more like him than I realize.”

There was a moment of silence. Haknyeon stood up, side stepping the piles of clothes on the floor to reach the window. He sat on the windowsill, by Sunwoo’s feet, looking at him. “Do you remember what you told me about him?” Sunwoo waited for him to continue. “You told me he didn’t know love. That’s what you said, these were your words.” 

Sunwoo nodded. “I didn’t lie.”

“Then there’s your answer,” Haknyeon said with a smile. He nudged Sunwoo’s foot with a toe. “You have so much love in you, Sunwoo. You couldn’t be more different from him if you tried.”

“I still have it in me to kill, apparently.”

“So do I,” Haknyeon shot back. “I think a lot of us would kill if it came down to it. But you didn’t. You chose not to. That matters a whole lot.”

Sunwoo watched his face. Haknyeon looked beautiful under the moonlight, like a painting. The most beautiful painting Sunwoo had ever seen. He thought about Haknyeon’s own brush with death. How he had been so close to killing and being killed. It seemed so surreal.

“I’m not saying killing for love is always noble, or justifiable, even,” Haknyeon continued. “I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself if I had gone through with it, I don’t think. But you were trying to help me. You can’t compare that to what your father did. It’s not fair.”

Sunwoo didn’t say anything for a second, staring out the window. Maybe Haknyeon was right. Maybe he wasn’t, but Sunwoo had no way to know, really. 

“Hey,” Haknyeon called. Sunwoo looked at him, at his beautiful, kind smile. Haknyeon moved then, crawling over Sunwoo’s body until he could reach his lips, giving him a kiss, “Do you trust me?”

“With my life.”

“Then trust me on this. You’re a good person. The fact that you’re worried about what you could have done but didn’t says a lot more about you than you think. It shows that you care, and that you’re willing to grow with your mistakes, or your almost-mistakes,” Haknyeon said all of that looking him in the eye, but now he turned around, making room for himself between Sunwoo’s legs and resting his back against Sunwoo’s chest. Sunwoo brought him closer, passing his arms around his torso. “And if we’re not _that_ good, well. We can work on it together. Right?”

The words touched Sunwoo deeper than he was expecting. He felt lighter, and better too, now that he had voiced what he had been trying not think about (and failing) for the past few days. He smiled, hiding it against Haknyeon’s neck, and nodded, making Haknyeon giggle when his nose tickled his skin. “Right.”

“And you know what else we could work on together?”

“Again, I’m not helping you sort your clothes.”

“Oh, come _on,”_ Haknyeon whined, making Sunwoo laugh.

“Where’s Youngjae?”

“In town, as usual. You know, if you help me out with this mess I can make your time worth it later…” Haknyeon said, running a hand on Sunwoo’s tigh. It was very suggestive, so Sunwoo had a hard time keeping a straight face.

“Are you offering to pay me with sex?”

“Is it working?”

Sunwoo burst out laughing.


	6. VI (Epilogue)

Happiness wasn’t, after all, so out of reach as Haknyeon had originally thought.

Things fell into place like pieces of a puzzle. Living at the Kim Kingdom showed Haknyeon what it felt like to live without fear. He was free to do as he pleased, and he used that freedom as much as he could. He went back to baking for Chanhee, only this time he had a lot more than only Friday nights to do so, which in turn made him come up with a system to bake and deliver sweet goods to the kids in town, giving him all the more reasons to walk around and make new friends. He discovered he and Hyunjoon had a lot in common, like their taste in music and a penchant for teasing Sunwoo. Princess Sunhye, Sunwoo’s sister, was delighted to find Haknyeon and Youngjae were Waterbenders, so they made it a family tradition to spend a lazy afternoon every fortnight by the river, playing around until night fell and they huddled together around a campfire, listening to Sunwoo’s guitar.

It felt, in many ways, like Haknyeon was finally home.

He found a new reason to love Sunwoo every day, too. From the way he sometimes woke up to Sunwoo carefully leaving the bed, trying his best not to wake him, to the way Sunwoo could get extra giggly whenever he had more than a bottle of wine. He loved to watch Sunwoo work his way through his daily reigning prince responsibilities, how he took every single request and complaint seriously, and made sure to be present wherever he was needed. He learned that Sunwoo usually took trips to neighboring kingdoms on his mother’s behalf, forming liaisons and strengthening ties like he wasn’t just a reigning prince but an acting king. He felt strangely happy with how much he seemed to care about Hyunjoon, and Hyunjoon’s opinions; their bond was one of the most beautiful and strong things Haknyeon had ever seen, and it only convinced him of what he knew about Sunwoo already—that he was a caring, devoted person, who’d do anything for the people he loved.

Sometimes Haknyeon missed the people from his old life. The farmers who he had been so happy to work with, the people from the castle, his sisters. His mother, too, because he’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss her, no matter how hard and hurtful their relationship had been. He managed to meet a lot of them in the next few months, even visiting some of the farmers he used to interact with on a weekly basis, listening to their stories over a cup of tea. The more he learned about how to deal with his newfound freedom, the braver he felt to do those things, and more. And Sunwoo was always there, too, ready to take his hand and walk with him if he needed, but never pushing him to do anything he didn’t feel ready to. 

Sunwoo made him feel safe. That was no easy feat for someone like Haknyeon, who had been living with uncertainty for so long.

Almost a year later, Haknyeon found himself chasing Chanhee with fingers covered in cake frosting. The sky was clear, and their laughter echoed in the air, Younghoon’s louder than anyone else’s. It had started with Younghoon smearing frosting on Chanhee’s nose, Haknyeon copying him, and Chanhee immediately getting up to chase both of them. Suddenly Chanhee turned around, noticing Haknyeon much closer to him than Younghoon. Haknyeon ran the other way, screaming with laughter and diving behind Hyungseo, who had been sitting on a blanket on the grass, watching everything with amusement. 

Hyungseo screamed in surprise at being involved. _Loudly_. Just as Chanhee reached them, he leaned over and smeared frosting on Joonyoung’s nose, who had been laughing at Hyungseo trying to get Haknyeon’s frosting-covered fingers away from him.

Joonyoung gasped. “Why me?” He asked, his voice breaking comically at the last word. “Oh, you’re _on,_ buddy,” he said, standing up to chase a giggling Chanhee.

“Should I be worried?” Jaehyun—Joonyoung’s plus-one whom most of them were meeting for the first time that day—asked, bemused. He stretched his legs and took a sip of his wine. “Are they gonna kill each other?”

“The worst they’re gonna do is deafen each other with their screams,” Hyungseo said.

“Like you almost did just now?” Haknyeon noted, glad to see his strategy of using Hyungseo as a human shield had worked. 

Hyungseo gave him a fake offended look. “That was a perfectly reasonable scream, I’ll have you know.”

“Sure,” Haknyeon and Jaehyun said at the same time. Haknyeon offered him a hand to high-five, which Jaehyun almost did, realizing at the last minute that it was covered in frosting. Jaehyun did an air high-five instead, turning to watch the others again when Younghoon screamed something like _not the hair!_ in a high-pitched voice that was loud enough to disturb a flock of birds in a nearby tree.

Sunwoo was watching the chaos unfold with a smirk. He looked prettier than Haknyeon had ever seen him, hair almost glowing under the sun. He looked happy, too, which in turn made Haknyeon’s heart swell with so much love he thought it was going to burst. He made his way over and sat down again next to Sunwoo, where he had been sitting before The Frosting Apocalypse happened. He offered a finger that Sunwoo eyed suspiciously; Haknyeon shrugged and licked the frosting himself.

“It’s really good, though. The frosting. When it’s on the cake, at least,” Sunwoo joked. Haknyeon showed him his tongue, making him laugh. “Seriously, these are really good.”

“Thank you,” Haknyeon beamed at him, happy. “I’ve been trying some new recipes. Hyungseo has like, a thousand recipe books in there. I don’t know how he finds anything.”

“Isn’t he part magus or something? Maybe part fae?”

Haknyeon considered that. “Not sure. Could be. I still think he’s just a little eccentric.”

“An artist, then,” Sunwoo said, making Haknyeon snort. “You know…”

“Yes?”

“This reminds me of when you were cooking for me. You know, every Friday.”

Haknyeon squinted at him. “I’ve been cooking for you, technically. I’ve been cooking for a lot of people, including you.”

“I know. And I remember saying once that I’d marry you just so you’d keep cooking for me.”

They looked at each other for a second too long. Haknyeon felt the corners of his mouth pulling up; he was trying not to smile, because he could be wrong about where Sunwoo was going with this, but he was having a hard time keeping his smile at bay. 

“Yes, I remember that. And I said I was already cooking for you.”

“And I said maybe I just wanted to marry you, then.”

Sunwoo looked at him like Haknyeon had all the answers in the universe. Like he was Sunwoo’s personal north star, guiding him in the night sky. Right now, he was looking at him with eyes filled with love, and hope, and promise.

“Haknyeon, will you marry me?”

Haknyeon kissed him, the _yes_ falling from his lips straight into Sunwoo’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you read this far, thank you so, so much!!
> 
> -
> 
> quotes:
> 
> 1\. "sans toi, les émotions d'aujourd'hui ne seraient que la peau morte des émotions d'autrefois."- amélie (dir jean-pierre jeunet, 2001)
> 
> 2\. ["when I am in your presence I feel life is strong [...]"](https://twitter.com/queerlitbot/status/1228844769339756544) \- frank o'hara
> 
> 3\. ["because the sunset, like survival, exists only on the verge of its own disappearing [...]"](https://twitter.com/queerlitbot/status/1230837985534513155) \- ocean vuong, on earth we're briefly gorgeous
> 
> 4\. ["what wasn't a possibility is present in your arms."](https://twitter.com/queerlitbot/status/1237270318835736576) \- joseph o. legaspi, vows (for a gay wedding)
> 
> 5\. the title comes from [a richard silken poem](https://twitter.com/sikenpoems/status/1243829567141396481)!


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